Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance
by Arallion
Summary: Calamity befalls Caroline, and Richard finds his inner Knight in Shining Armor. Rated for mild adult themes.
1. What Shouldn't Happen

Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance

By  S. Arallion

**Disclaimer**:  All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders—namely, not myself.  Anything you don't recognize is my fault.  I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters and am eternally grateful to the creators of "Caroline in the City" for coming up with such an enjoyable place to play.  (And, by the way, I'm also grateful they never came up with a scenario like this one… I definitely enjoy the carefree Caroline on T.V. ) ~~Arallion

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                The clatter of his tray of paintbrushes falling to the floor woke Richard from his unplanned doze.  His head shot up from the table and one hand grabbed for where the brushes should have been, when his eyes blearily found them scattered all over the floor.  Groaning softly, he straightened his glasses and slid off the stool to his knees.

                He picked up the tray and stopped.  There were voices, out in the apartment by the door.  Julia's, he could hear clearly.  The other was so faint, he thought he could almost be imagining it.  Hesitating another moment, he heard Julia's slightly condescending tone of dismissal.  It must have been a neighbor... he thought sleepily, picking up a handful of brushes and inspecting them for damage.  

                A neighbor?  At this time of night?  

                Richard abruptly woke up. There was something fundamentally wrong with that thought, in his neighborhood.  Neighbors generally kept to themselves, for fear of getting involved in something illegal.  That, and it was 3 a.m., if the clock on the windowsill was correct.  He didn't know anyone who might come calling at 3 a.m..... unless....

                When the door to Richard's studio flew open, the dark haired Italian woman in the kitchen jumped slightly.  She composed herself rapidly, however, and turned with a lazy, seductive smile on her full lips.  "Oh, you _are awake, my sweet.  I am making some tea to help me sleep, would you like some too?"_

                Richard looked at her suspiciously, and then slapped himself mentally for the unworthy thought. It really had been his imagination. "Ah... certainly, thank you."  She favored him with another of those smiles that staggered every man she met, and turned back to the stove.

                "You know, Richard dear, you should really try to get more sleep.  You are getting those terrible dark bags under your eyes again..."  She glanced sidelong at him with a smoldering look as he wandered over to the neon-lit window.  "Perhaps you should ask for a little... vacation time?"  

                "Maybe," he muttered, staring out through the murky panes of glass into the night.  It was raining again.  It figured, he thought.  He didn't hear the whistle of the teakettle or Julia's soft call, and only noticed when she swished up to him and pressed the warm mug into his hands and her warm body to his side.  "What kind is it?"

                "Orange spice."

                It smelled better than it tasted, he grimaced ruefully.  Story of his life. He drank it dutifully.  "Thank you."

                "Mm-hmm..." the sultry response came as Julia moved back to the bedroom.  

                Richard turned to watch her go.  Everything was graceful about Julia. Even sleepy, at 3 a.m., she managed to strut around the apartment like an heiress.  Which, of course, she _was, or might have been if not for him.  Still, most people would have given up the act and shuffled around in slippers once in a while.  Julia __never shuffled.  It was almost annoying, at times._

                "Julia?"

                "Hmm?"  The sheets were rustling.  He knew she was straightening them out so she could climb in and start rumpling them all over again.

                "Who was at the door?"

                Dead silence for a moment. Then the rustling started again, a little guiltily, he thought.  "At the door?  I don't remember anyone coming by tonight.   Did you have a dream, sleeping on your easel, caro mia?"

                He could have had a dream, and he had almost convinced himself of that.  But he had been picking up paintbrushes, not sleeping, when he heard the voices.  Either he was right or he was in need of therapy again.  "Julia, right before I came out, you were talking to someone."  

                There was no response save for more rustling.  The suspicion he'd chided himself for earlier came back and pounced with claws extended.  He stalked towards the door.  "Julia, who was at the door?"

                She turned on him immediately, defensively.  "What are you implying, Richard?  Perhaps it is my business and not yours."  Her dark eyes were flashing a huge warning, which Richard found himself ignoring.  It must be a side effect of the bad seafood, a small cynical voice growled in his head.

                Voice or no, Richard would not be deterred.  "Julia, I am not going to play this game with you.  Who was it, and why were they here?"  His eyes locked with hers, and for once she had to look away.

                From behind the curtain of her hair, she said quietly, "All right. It was Caroline."  She heard the slow whoosh of air as Richard let out his held breath, and braced for his next question.

                "What did she want?"

                This was not going well. Julia essayed a pouty look from under her lashes that was guaranteed to turn men's knees to mud, but the irritable glint in his eyes told her it wasn't working.  She sighed. "She wanted to talk to you. She needed you for something.  That girl, always needing y-- Ouch, Richard, let go of me!"

                He had grasped her upper arms firmly while she was speaking, and his grip had tightened as she continued. "What did you tell her, Julia?  Why didn't you come get me?"

The grip wasn't slackening any, despite her complaint.

                "I told her you were asleep. Which was true.  And that you shouldn't be bothered.  Which is also true."  She couldn't keep the snippy edge from her voice in the last comment, and Richard raised an eyebrow.  He relaxed his hold on her, and she pulled away huffily.  

                "Sorry," he muttered, raking a hand through his tousled blond hair.

                "I should think so," Julia grumbled in reproach.  She fluffed her pillow violently and slid between the sheets.  "Turn out the lights if you are intending to stay up all night."

                Richard nodded absently.  Why had Caroline been in his neighborhood at this time of night?  It didn't make sense.  She had gone straight home, with that Trevor character... he couldn't repress an indignant shudder, despite his worry.  What was going on?  "Julia, did she seem... all right... to you?"

                Julia rolled over in bed.  He couldn't see her face again-- why did she always do that?  "I don't know, Richard.  She always looks sickly to me, you know that.  Good night."

                The suspicion jangled in his head again.  "Julia, you are avoiding my question."  He moved to the other side of the bed, so that she was facing him again.  "Tell me.  Was Caroline all right?"  

                The dark hair fell over one eye, but the other was glaring at him furiously.  "What difference does it make?  She is probably safe in bed by now. Why do you feel you must worry about her so much?"

                Richard threw his hands up in embarrassed exasperation.  "I don't _know.  Why do I have to pry this out of you?  There was something wrong, wasn't there?"  The hair covered Julia's face again, and Richard climbed onto the bed and pushed it gently out of the way.  She was tense as a harpstring, and pointedly not looking at him. His heart began to pound.  "There __was something wrong.  God, Julia, what was it?"_

                "I don't know," she repeated bitterly, finally realizing that he wasn't going to let this go.  "She looked like, perhaps, she had fallen down the stairs.  Or something.  She didn't make a lot of sense."

                Richard stared through her for a moment, shocked blue eyes wide.  Then he exploded into motion, bounding off the bed and reaching the phone in two long strides. "She didn't make a lot of _sense?  Fallen down the stairs? Julia, how __could you?"_

                "Richard, what are you doing?" she snapped, in the tone that she only used as a last resort to get his attention, climbing out of the bed after him.  

                He looked at her, and she suddenly wished he hadn't.  It was like being doused with ice water. "I'm trying to take care of my friends.  Maybe someday I'll have time to explain that to you."  His attention turned to the phone.  "Damn.  She's not there yet."

                Shaken, Julia gathered the remnants of her shattered dignity and pointedly turned out the light in the bedroom, closing the door.  Richard spared her less than half a glance, though, as he flipped through his address book for Del's telephone number.

                "Del.  Hello.  No, it's Richard....  Del, shut up, I _know it's almost 3:30 in the morning, and I don't care if you have an entire modeling __studio in your bedroom.  Look, Caroline was just here, and I think she may be hurt.  I don't know, I just had to pry it out of Julia.  No, please don't ask.  I just called her apartment and she's not back yet, so I think we should go looking.  Yes, if you would call Annie-- yes, I'll meet you there, but I'm going to walk, and look for Caroline on the way...."_

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                The streets were dark, and cold, and very, very wet.  The rain kept blowing in unexpected directions, so that just as Richard had settled his umbrella in an appropriate spot, it changed and he was forced to stop and wipe the splatters off his glasses again.  He was only a couple blocks from Caroline's building when the rain slashed full force into his face, and he blindly took cover in the lee of the nearest building.  "All right, that's _enough," he snapped, glancing at the sky in resigned annoyance.  Wiping the rain from his glasses for the tenth time, he replaced them and squinted around at the alley._

                His heart gave a queer lurch.  

                Not ten feet away from him huddled a little bundle of what could have been wet, discarded rags... except that the bundle was looking vaguely about itself with huge, disoriented grey eyes.

                "Caroline?"

                The rags looked at him.  "Richard?  Is that really you....?"  The voice was so faint he could barely hear it. 

                "Caroline, what are you doing out here.... "  Richard choked on the sentence and rushed to catch the rags, which were in the process of fainting.  

                She was so very light, even when soaked.  He hesitated, but pushed aside the hood of her sodden coat-- not rags after all-- to see her face.

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                Where _are you, Richard?  Del thought angrily as he and Annie paced the floor of Caroline's loft. This was not a time to be dawdling. _

                Annie snorted.  "Julia probably put him on a leash and tied him to the bedpost."

                "Oh, bad image."  Del shook his head, wincing.  "Remember, he called _me."_

                "Yes, but that doesn't mean he had the final say..." Annie shook her finger at Caroline's handsome ex-boyfriend.  "I know women like her.   They're mean and they're sneaky.  Just when the man thinks he's got the advantage, POW!" She demonstrated with a stage punch that lost a little in the interpretation, but was saved from Del's mocking laughter by a knock at the door.  

                "Richard, it took you--" Del opened the door and stood, shocked. "--long enough..."

                Soaking wet, black raincoat draped over his shoulders, Richard looked like the Angel of Death, for all that he carried the limp and bedraggled form of Caroline as carefully as one might a porcelain figurine.  His face was hard and set as he swooped into the apartment.  "Del, where's your car parked.  I think we need to get her to the hospital.  Annie, would you go upstairs and pack some things-- you could do it better than I...."  He trailed off as he noticed Del staring at him openmouthed.  "What?"

                "Richard, in case you hadn't noticed, you called us.  What the hell is going on?"  Del snapped.  

                The colorist's gaze met his, and Del was surprised to see an angry heat in the usually cool blue eyes. "I don't have any idea what's going on, Del.  But look at this." He gently placed his burden on the nearby couch, and brushed the hood back from Caroline's pale, still face again.  

                Del's eyes flared open.  "What the--" He moved closer, pulling the scarf from about her neck.  "She looks like she's been _hit."  _

                "Oh, my, god."  The flat, deliberate tone was Annie's voice, from upstairs.  "Um, guys, maybe you should see this."  Richard and Del exchanged foreboding looks and raced to the stairs.

                There were shards of a broken vase on the floor, and the flowers that had been in them were scattered.  Annie picked one up; it was trampled.  The bed was a ruin, and there were dark stains on the carpet that looked suspiciously red.  

                "She didn't do this herself," muttered Del unnecessarily.  "Maybe a burglar?"

                "Yeah, with the TV and stereo still downstairs?  Right," Annie spat.

                "And she wouldn't have surprised a burglar alone, when she came home with Trevor...oh, geez."  Del exchanged glances with Annie.

                Richard turned pale.  "You don't think--"

                "Well, maybe she invited him in. She hasn't done it before, but..."  

                The artist turned positively white and leaped down the stairs four at a time.

                Annie glared at Del, who didn't look much happier.  "Nice going, Mr. Foot-In-Mouth.  Maybe you'd better go find your car, before he decides to take Caroline to the E.R. on foot."

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To be continued…..

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Author's Note:  Did I mention this was a tad bit dark?  Well, hence the "R" rating… :}  Reviews welcome.  

This is my first fanfic, however, so I feel the need to state a few apologies in advance:

1) Apologies to anyone who feels I've misrepresented characters or situations in any way.  This is somewhat of an "alternate ending" fic, obviously, and I'm sure I've gotten some things wrong—but I'm doing my best to create a decent story despite the fact that I'm not a CitC expert.

2) SINCERE apologies to all of you who love Caroline and can't bear to see her hurt.  I don't like it either, but really… Richard _is_ quite dense, at the time it seemed nothing short of a nuclear disaster would get him to open up.  


	2. Where is Caroline?

Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance

Chapter Two:  Where is Caroline?

By  S. Arallion

**Disclaimer**:  All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders—namely, not myself.  Anything you don't recognize is my fault.  I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters.  ~~Arallion

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                  The nurse on duty leaped out of her chair in alarm as a panicked-looking young man dressed like a pallbearer dashed through the automatic doors and up to her desk.  

                "Wheelchair?" he panted at her, eyes round behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

                "Right here," she soothed, pushing one out from behind the desk.   "Easy now, you're all eyeballs and elbows.  Do you need some help?"

                "Not me," came the reply, over his shoulder as he dashed through the doors again.  "Be right back.  Don't leave."

                The nurse shook her head, bemused, and decided to call her orderlies anyway.

                Outside the door, the friends were trying to coax Caroline out of the car.  "C'mon, Cair," Del was crooning.  "We're not going to hurt you.  We're your friends."

                Richard rushed up with the wheelchair, which sent Caroline scooting back further into the car.  "Oh, damn.  She's awake, though, that's something."

                Annie snorted angrily.  "What a time for you to start turning optimistic, Richie.  Come on, Caroline... "                            

                In the dark of the car, the glitter of grey eyes emerged.  "Annie...?"

                Annie's lips tried to smile, but twisted instead.  "Hey, buddy... come on out and sit in our new chair!  It's really cool, it rolls, and stuff..."  

                The voice continued in a dreamy tone, as if she hadn't heard. "Annie, where's Richard?  I went to find him and Julia said he wasn't home, so I was looking for him... it was three in the morning and nobody should be out that late.... but I can't remember what happened after that.... Have you seen Richard?  Is he all right.....?"

                Richard held tightly to the wheelchair, his face stricken.  "I'm fine, Caroline.  I'm right here.  Come out and see."

                "Richard?"  The huddled form inched forward toward the door, with a little squeak of pain. "Help...  I can't get up, for some reason..."

                "You're just covered in coats, that's all," Richard murmured reassuringly, past the raw sensation in his throat.   He reached in to move the tangle away from her feet and winced as she flinched.  "Easy, Caroline... now take my hands...." He held them out to her so she could pull herself out of the seat.

                The grey eyes stared at his hands for a long moment, then lifted to his face.  He couldn't disguise his fear, or his love, in the light of that wavering gaze.  "Caroline...are you in there?"

                She took his hands, and stood, and then practically fell into the waiting chair.  But there was a flicker, just a flicker, of Caroline, looking out of those dazed, bruised eyes.  And Richard felt like thanking God for something for perhaps the first time in his life.

                "Keep talking to her, Richie," Annie murmured in his ear.  "Strangely enough, you're helping."  He shot her a dismayed look, and began chattering to his disoriented employer as they all escorted the wheelchair up the walk.  Listening, Annie was forced to chuckle. The subject, of all things, was cats.

                The nurse was waiting for them when they made it into the hospital.  "Didn't I just see some of you here earlier this evening..." she murmured as she took Caroline's name and entered it into the computer.  "Oh, yes, food poisoning..."  

                Annie looked across at Del.  "Food poisoning?"  He shrugged, passing it off to Richard.  

                "Caroline made seafood chowder for her dinner party, with some refrozen shrimp.  It wasn't really bad enough for anyone to want to take revenge for," Richard replied dryly, regaining some of his composure as he wrote rapidly on a form the nurse had given him.  He stopped, skimming the rest of the form.  "Here, Del. You know this stuff better than I would."

                Del looked at it.  "Oh, right, like she ever told me her real weight..."

                "Not the weight, the insurance."

                The nurse was having her interns move Caroline to another chair when she stopped, intently staring at the arms of the wheelchair.  She walked quickly over to the others and spoke in a quiet voice.  "Did any of you notice bleeding earlier when you found her?"

                "I didn't find her," Del answered quickly.

                "No," Richard muttered, with a shaken look.  "I found her in the coat, and I didn't think to have her change."

                The nurse patted his arm.  "It's all right.  Actually, it's for the best, in this sort of situation.  I was just hoping to find out how long it's been going on."

                "There was blood," Annie groaned, suddenly remembering.  "On her bedroom carpet.  It's about 5 a.m. now, so I'd bet it's at least 3 hours old. She's going to be okay, right?" A sharp edge rose in her voice and Del and Richard both caught one of her arms, lending unobtrusive support.

                "We're going to do our best, dearie," the nurse replied.  "You three might want to go home for a couple of hours--" she smiled as all of them looked at her disbelievingly--"or, if you'd like, the inpatient waiting room is right around the corner, and much more comfortable than this one.  We'll let you know when you can see her, all right?"  And she was gone.

                Annie, Richard, and Del stood staring at each other for a moment. Then, Annie sighed and wrapped an arm around each man's waist.  "C'mon, guys, there's a waiting room anxious for our angst."

                Richard managed a feeble scoff.  "Annie, you can't even spell that, let alone indulge in it..."

                "Oh, you'd be surprised, Mr. Happy," Annie sniffed.  Del chuckled.  It was as if they had all decided to try and take a big step back to normalcy... as long as Richard and Annie continued to insult each other, all might be right with the world.

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                "What's taking so long?" muttered Del, pacing back and forth across the small section of the waiting room that they had claimed.  

                Richard looked up from his position on the hard, hospital-issue couch.  "That's the eighth time you've asked that in the last twenty minutes," he returned, stretching awkwardly.  He was surprised to discover that he was holding a magazine, looked at it more closely, and winced in distaste.  "Oh my God, what am I reading?"

                Annie leaned over and peered at the cover.  "Oh, yeah, that was a good one, though."  Richard shuddered and tossed the magazine back onto the table.

                Del had stopped pacing.  "Well, I wish someone would let us know what's going on.  It's frustrating, sitting out here.  All right, pacing out here," he revised as the other two stared at him flatly.

                "We know, Del," Annie sighed, relenting.  

                "I just would like to know what happened," growled Richard, sprawling back onto the couch.  "Ow.  That is _really hard...."_

                The nurse that had checked Caroline in appeared in the doorway.  "I expect that you're all talking about how long it's taking us to get to you?" she asked rhetorically.  The three looked up with sheepish expressions.  "Well, it's been unpleasant for us all, and I'm sorry to say, it isn't over yet."

                "What do you mean?"  Annie gasped.  Richard was on his feet without thinking.  Del moved to flank them with wild concern in his eyes.

                "Calm down," the nurse said calmly.  Oddly, it worked.  "Your friend is going to be fine, physically.  And, I should say, _most of the bleeding I noticed earlier was from some glass lacerations on her feet and hands... perhaps from a glass pitcher or vase."  Annie nodded, nudging the other two to remember the broken vase. They all looked slightly relieved.  "She'll heal fast.  But it may be a while before any emotional problems can be dealt with.  I assume you all understand what I'm saying?"_

                Del choked on it.  "Yeah, you're saying she's been... raped... right?"  He could feel the others flinch from the word.  "What do we need to do?"

                The nurse touched Annie's arm reassuringly, her eyes sympathetic.  "I'm glad to see she has such good friends.  There are a lot of things you can do.  The doctor has recommended some informational packets for you to read, and I'll get those to you in a moment.  We can go over anything you'd like.  She does need a lot of trusted companions around her right now, though, so if at least one of you could stay with her at all times, that would help.  Also, as soon as you can, you need to find out what happened from her." Her gaze sharpened.  "The hardest thing for date rape victims to do, it seems, is to press charges against their attackers.  I think she's sensible enough to do it, though, once the shock is past."

                "We'll do what we can," replied Annie, subdued.

                "Great," the nurse smiled.  "I'll go get that information."  She was gone again.

                Del collapsed onto a couch.  "Oh, this really stinks."

                "You're telling me."  Annie was grim.  "Richard, sit down before you fall down."

                The artist's face snapped up to her, blankly, and he groped his way to a chair.  Pulling off his glasses, he scrubbed at his face violently. "Thank you, although I think I might feel better if I fell down."  

                "I know what you mean," Del sighed

                "No, I don't really think you do," Richard muttered, face still grim.  With a visible effort he composed himself.  "Alright, then, let's schedule.  Del, can you stay this morning while I go and take care of the strip for Caroline?"

                "You're going to what?"  Del looked askance at Richard, who made a placating gesture with both hands.

                "Remember that time when Caroline hurt her back, and we wrote the strip for her?"  At Del's nod, Richard continued. "During the next two weeks, I convinced Caroline that she had to have at least two emergency sequences ready, just in case.  I think we have a stockpile of at least twenty, now."

                "That's terrific, Richard," Del said, amazed.  "I would have thought she'd have used them up ages ago meeting deadlines, though."

                The colorist almost smiled.  "I hid them in my canvases, and she forgot about them."  

                Annie laughed.  "Oh, that is so typical.  Well, since I'm up anyway, _I_ can take the morning while you fellas go and do work things.  I have rehearsal tonight, though, so you'd better get back by noon so I can sleep."

                "Here you are, then," the nurse's voice interrupted.  "You're staying-- Annie? Good. And I'll jot your names down too, Mr. Karinsky, Mr. Cassidy, as authorized visitors.  We're not going to let anyone else in to see her, though.  I'm sure you understand?"

                "I'd rather not, but I do," Richard said dryly.  Del thumped him on the shoulder half-seriously.  

                "See you later, Spadarro.  Call me on the cell if anything changes."

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                Richard had Del drop him off at Caroline's apartment to collect the emergency strips.  He searched through several stacks of sketches and canvases before he found them, in several innocuous-looking, but thick, manila envelopes.  The apartment was dull and gray as he stood finally by the double desk, looking out the window.  It was appropriate, he decided.  But he didn't have to like it.

                A soft but insistent meow caught his attention.  He looked under the side of the desk that Caroline usually sat at and saw Salty huddling in the corner.  "Oh, great, we forgot about you," he grumbled, running a hand through his hair.  "Come on out and lead me to the cat food, beast."  The cat meowed again, plaintively, but didn't move.  Sighing, deciding that nothing could possibly get any worse, Richard reached under the desk.  "Don't claw me now, you hear?"  Salty sniffed his hand cautiously, and allowed herself to be picked up, even beginning an enthusiastic purr as the artist's long fingers massaged her fur.  Richard was surprised, but he supposed that he couldn't blame the cat for being a little confused. 

                "What were you doing when all this happened last night?" he wondered softly.  Maybe she'd hidden under the desk the whole time.  He carried Salty into the kitchen, where she struggled to get down, running directly to the cupboard that contained cat food.  He fed her, and watched the cat eat for a second.  "Well, you'll be fine, I suppose." 

                It really was dismal in the apartment, Richard decided as he gathered up the envelopes again.  His eyes fell on the plug for the Christmas lights Caroline had insisted on stringing haphazardly about the room.  Electricity didn't cost extra for her, so it wouldn't hurt...  He plugged them in, and despite the habitual groan he felt rising in reaction to the merry colors, he also felt much better.  It seemed to awaken the Caroline in the walls.  Now, if only they could be sure to awaken the Caroline in Caroline again....  

                He shook his head sadly.  "See you later, Salty."

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                The secretary at Del's agency was surprised to see Richard walking through the door, carrying some unlikely-looking copy envelopes.  "Hello, what are you doing here?"  

                "Del didn't tell you?"

                "He's been on the telephone since he got in this morning.  I heard that Caroline was under the weather, though."  

                "You might say that."  Richard leaned on the counter, momentarily at a loss.  "Charlie is coming in today, right?"

                "Oh, yes."

                "Can I write him a memo, quickly---" she handed over pen and paper.  "Thank you.  I need him to let Lou know that these are stand-alone strips, and that Caroline would appreciate a note printed letting people know that the strip will continue in sequence as soon as she's back... she hates getting out of sequence."  

                The secretary giggled. Richard looked at her quizzically, and she sobered.  "I'll make sure he gets it, _and that he understands it," she promised, smiling.  _

                "Thanks," he replied, almost smiling in response to her understanding of Charlie, but another thought occurred to him.  "Del's still on the phone?"

                She checked.  "Yes, sorry." 

                "Could you ask him, for me, if he can afford to rent a carpet cleaner?  And have him call me at Caroline's."

                "Sure," she said, a little confused.  He saw her write it down on a notepad.

                "Thanks, " he called again, and vanished through the doors.

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                Richard rummaged around in Caroline's cupboards until he found the cleaning supplies, grumbling at Salty who had decided that he was going to be her buddy for the day and was wrapping herself around his ankles at every opportunity.  "Go _away.  Remember, I'm the one who hates you?  No, don't purr.... oh, lovely."  He pulled several bottles of 'organic chemicals' out of the cupboard and squinted at them in an effort to figure out their use. "Why couldn't she use Lysol like every other person I know...." Richard briefly considered trekking down to the nearest store and buying a bottle, but squelched the idea.  Lysol smelled awful, and she'd notice.  He resigned himself to twenty minutes of experimental chemistry, instead, and hauled the items to the kitchen. _

                Vacuuming was actually the worst part, especially since the vacuum cleaner didn't want to work properly.  Richard had no idea of how to fix it, being primarily a broom and mop person, but he managed to give everything a superficial look of tidiness.  Luckily, the apartment wasn't very dirty to begin with.

                He sank down on the couch with a sigh.  Stop avoiding it, he told himself.  It's the only thing that really needs to be done.  He couldn't so much as glance at the stairs without feeling ill, though.  And Salty wouldn't even go to that side of the room-- he'd had to move her water dish because of it.  Maybe Annie would clean upstairs this evening....

                Knock it off, he snarled silently, and forced himself to his feet.  You can't do that to her, either.  Get the vacuum and the dustpan and get up there.  

                Caroline's bedroom had a surreal look in the dim afternoon light.  The broken glass crinkled beneath Richard's shoes as he pulled up the Venetian blinds and turned on all the lights he could find before getting started.  The limits of Caroline's garbage service were severely tested before the glass and ceramic bits were cleaned up enough to vacuum, and even then the vacuum bag had to be changed.  He hesitated before cleaning up the area at the foot of the bed and then left it untouched, not knowing if he'd be cleaning up important evidence or not.

                Picking up the clothing and bedding from the mattress where he'd piled it, Richard fought back a surge of helpless anger.  If only he'd driven them all back here together, last night.  If only Caroline hadn't invited that --_person-- in.  If only... if only he hadn't been such an idiot in the first place, maybe none of this would have happened._

                He gently folded the comforter, and stuffed the sheets in a laundry bag.  Then, he remade the bed, trying to leave it as precise as he'd seen it before, although he'd been so nervous that time that he'd forgotten how almost anything had looked.  Annie would be having a great time teasing him about that, if she were here.

                Speaking of Annie, she should have been back if Del had shown up to relieve her.  And Del hadn't called, either.  Raising an eyebrow, he absently turned out the lights and looked about the room again.  Much better, if one avoided looking at the center section.  He dragged the cleaning equipment back downstairs and snagged his coat off the couch with one long arm, waving goodbye to an offended Salty, who had been napping on top of it.

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To be continued….

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Author's Note:  Sounds fairly bad, I know.  But remember, Caroline is a spunky gal… she'll pull through with that amazing Wisconsin resiliency.  And Richard… well, Richard needs to spend some "quality time" with his feelings.   ~~Arallion


	3. A Friend In Need

Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance

Chapter Three:  A Friend In Need

By  S. Arallion

**Disclaimer**:  All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders—namely, not myself.  Anything you don't recognize is my fault.  I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters.  ~~Arallion

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                "Annie, it's four o'clock! What are you still doing here?"  Richard stopped in the aseptic hospital hallway. "Everything's still all right, isn't it?"

                "Oh, everything's fine as it can be," Annie hastened to say, seeing concern flash into the artist's blue eyes.  "It's just that every time she wakes up, she complains about something or other and asks for anyone who isn't there.  Well, you, mostly," she shrugged slyly.  "But I'm sure that's just because you haven't been here all day."  

                "Is she awake now?"

                "I don't think so," Annie demurred.  "You can go in, though.  Del's here too."

                They went back to the little room together, and peered through the window at their friend.  Her short red-gold hair was clean and brushed, and the bruises and cuts on her face looked less menacing under bandages.  Annie sneaked a look at Richard and chuckled.  "Oh, Richie, you are so pathetic," she cooed, thumping him on the arm.

                "Ouch."  He glared at her, but she was too busy smirking.  "Not now, Annie.  I'm just worried.  Leave it alone." 

                "Right.  And you spent all afternoon cleaning Caroline's apartment because why?"

                He looked at her in annoyance.  "How do you know that?"

                She flipped her hand in dismissal.  "I can smell those awful organic cleansers that she uses.  How did you figure out how to use those, anyway?  I would have just gone down and bought some Lysol."

                Richard sighed.  "I almost did.  I'll be right back..."

                Annie yelled after him, "Don't bother, the smell doesn't wash off..." but he wasn't headed to the restroom.  He stopped at the nurses' station, showing the nurse on duty something.  Receiving a nod, he sauntered back.  

                "Richard, you're being cryptic," Annie said suspiciously.  "What was that?"

                "Hey, there's another word you shouldn't know.  Are you taking classes?" he dodged.

                She bared her teeth at him.  "You just don't know me that well...so what was that?"

                "Don't you have a rehearsal to be at sometime?"

                "Not for another two hours. So... "  They entered the room, where Del looked up at them curiously.  

                "Hi, guys.  Hey, Annie, I thought you were taking off...?"

                "Nah.  It's not like I have to be in costume or anything.  Anyway, if she wakes up on schedule, it would be nice to have us all here so she doesn't have to whine about the person who isn't...." 

                Del grinned.  "Yeah, it's about time you got here, Richard."  His voice lowered.  "Julia stopped by, too."

                "Did she."

                The flat tone made Del blink and exchange a quick look with Annie.  "Wow, that's not quite the reaction I expected..."

                Richard shook his head and took a deep breath.  "Sorry.  I've just been trying not to think about the part she had in what happened last night.  And other times... probably more than I'm aware of."  He looked sorrowfully at Annie.  "You could have told me, I'm sure."

                Annie shrugged.  "It's your life."

                He stared at her for a moment, and then a corner of his mouth turned up in a wry smile.  "Since when?"

                "Ohhh..." came a moan from the hospital bed.  All three of them leaped up, but in an unspoken accord, no one moved towards the bed.  "Hello....hello?  Is anybody here...?"  The voice was a little hoarse, but getting stronger.

                "Hey, Duff," said Del softly, finally breaking their silence.  "We're all here.  We've been waiting for you to join the party."

                "Wow, a party... and me without my good shoes," Caroline murmured, in a distinctly Richard-like tone.  Del and Annie exchanged knowing glances.  Richard closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard.

                "Good afternoon, Caroline," he managed finally, stepping up to the bedside table.  

                Her eyes widened and her lips curved into a wistful smile.  "Richard, you're all right.  I had this horrible dream..." The look on her face threatened to completely unsettle him, so he put up a hand to forestall her.  

                "I'm fine, Caroline.  I brought something for you...." he began pulling a paper sack out of his voluminous coat pocket.

                "Oh really?  What?  Better than my good shoes?"  Caroline shared a wink with Annie.  "Oh my gosh...  Ginger ale.  It really _is better than my good shoes..." She looked at the bottle longingly.  "Did they say I could have this?"_

                Richard looked slightly embarrassed as Del smilingly produced a bottle opener on his keychain.  "Nurse's orders, actually.  I heard you'd been begging for it all day, and they were almost to the point of actually paying me to get it for you."  

                Caroline held the bottle reverently in bandaged hands.  "Well, thank you for not holding out any longer.  For that matter, _I'll pay you for getting this...." She was tired, though, and could only manage to take a few sips before her grey eyes lost focus.  Shaking herself awake, she squinted at Annie in concern.  "Hey, Annie, weren't you going to meet that producer guy before rehearsal?"_

                Annie looked at Del's watch in panic.  "Oh, _no.  Sorry, Caroline.  I'll be back tonight, okay?"_

                "Okay," came the quiet response.  Annie grabbed Richard's hand, to his surprise, and shot him a grateful look.  "That's the best she's sounded all day," she whispered, and then dashed out the door.  

                Del shook his head, smiling.  "Annie," he pronounced solemnly,  "is weird."  He went back to the chair to pick up his magazine.

                "Del!"  Caroline exclaimed in a fading voice, still smiling.  "What a horrible thing to say.  Even if it is true, " she added after a moment.

                "Here, let me take that before you drop it," Richard murmured, as Caroline's grip on the ginger ale slackened.  She looked at him gratefully, but he was avoiding her eyes as he set the bottle on the table.

                "Richard..." she murmured, reaching for his hand.  He hesitated, but then reached to grasp hers.  Unconsciously, his fingers gently traced across her knuckles.  "Richard, promise me you won't not be home at 3 in the morning anymore, okay?"

                The artist's eyebrows raised slightly, and not just because of the double negative.  "What do you mean, exactly?  Caroline, I was home... I was painting.  Well, sleeping and painting," he amended guiltily.

                Caroline's head shook slightly in negation.  "No, you were out.  Julia said you were out.... And it's not safe, you had me so worried...." Richard closed his eyes again, this time in angry realization. 

                "Caroline, you should go back to sleep. I'll have this put aside for you."  He patted her hand and drew away, but she clutched at him in panic. 

                Her eyes were unfocused, returning to the dazed look of the night before. "Richard, you're not going away again, are you?  Don't go away, please.  I won't be able to send my strips in unless you're there to color them in..." she whispered.  

                "I'm not going anywhere except down to the nurses' station to put this in the fridge," he replied in a reassuring tone, despite the sinking feeling in his heart.  "When you wake up, I'll be here."

                The grey eyes searched his for a moment, but finally fluttered closed.  Richard picked up the bottle and stepped to the door, meeting Del's gaze for a moment.  Strangely, Del was still smiling, a little sadly, but still smiling.  The artist sighed and went out, hoping to find aspirin at the nurses' station as well....

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                Del finished his magazine article and looked up at the clock, surprised.  It had been quite a while, and Richard hadn't returned.  He didn't remember hearing Caroline's acerbic colorist mention leaving for any reason, and felt a little twinge of worry.  Getting up, he decided to take a little walk to stretch his legs, and perhaps keep an eye out for Richard on the way.

                He found the artist in the restroom.  As soon as he entered, the water came on, and he saw Richard scrubbing his long hands with soap, an annoyed look on his face but his eyes suspiciously red.  "Don't bother, the smell of those cleaners doesn't come off," Del said placidly, trying to find someplace to start the conversation.

                Richard stared down at his fingernails distastefully.  "I noticed.  You know, turpentine smells a lot worse than this, but it's never made me consider pulling off my own skin before."  With a shrug, he grabbed a paper towel and dried them, surreptitiously wiping his face as well.

                "Richard, I need to talk to you," Del said quietly.  The artist froze for a moment, then slowly turned back around to look at him, blue eyes shadowed.  "I don't know what happened last night, between you, Caroline and Julia, but whatever it was, it really has you shaken up."

                Richard ran a hand through his blond hair distractedly.  "Del, I would say we're all a little shaken up, wouldn't you?"  He moved to step out the door.

                Del put a restraining hand on his arm. "Hey, give me a little credit here.  I can see when something's up.  Well, that, and Julia's been here six times today wanting to know where you were, whether Caroline was awake yet, and if she'd said anything about last night."

                "You mentioned that before.  You didn't let her in, did you?"  The look was sharp, worried.

                "No, of course not."  Del snorted.  "But that's just me, not liking Julia.  Why wouldn't _you trust her?"  Richard groaned as he felt himself landing neatly in the trap.  _

                "Del, I'd _really rather not talk about it."  When Del didn't budge, he sighed and gave up.  "Look, the reason Julia has been in and out today is that she's trying to find out if I know yet that she lied to me about what she told Caroline.  I've just been squarely pummeled with the fact that the woman I married is catty, conniving, and untrustworthy, and I have to figure out what I'm going to do about it.  So, yes, I'm a bit shaken, and no, I actually don't want her around myself or any of my friends until I know what's going on."  The artist stared into Del's face with a defeated look.  "If this sort of thing has been going on all this time without my knowledge, this whole mess could be at least partially my fault."_

                Del stared back at him, worried.  "Richard, the only person to blame here is the rapist, so don't even think that!"  

                A flicker of anger showed in the blue eyes.  "For the physical aspect, perhaps. But what about what led her into the situation in the first place?  What if something was going on that could have been prevented, if I'd only seen it, or been allowed to see it, coming?"

                "But that's so indirect," Del protested. "And a _lot of 'what-if's'!"_

                The flicker turned inward and faded into a look of misery.  "I know.  I can't help it, though."

                Del watched the tall, rangy figure next to him.  He knew there wasn't a thing he could say, but he could tell when someone was holding on to the ragged edge.  Something had to be done.  "Richard, I think you should talk to Caroline when she wakes up.  She needs to know these things.  I think she'd like to know that you care, too."  He got a surprised look on his face.  "Well, whad'd'ya know, I think I learned something from her."

                Richard's eyebrows shot up as a sarcastic reply came to his lips, but instead he sighed and continued out the door.

                "Wow," Del muttered.  "You really _do need some help."_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                When Caroline awoke the next time, her room was darkened.  A beam of moonlight from the window slid across her blanket... it must have stopped raining.  She sat up slowly in the bed, careful not to disturb, or even look at, the i.v. in her arm.

                She could just make out an uneven outline on the couch against the wall.  The nurses must have let someone stay with her.  Probably Annie, she thought.  No, the hair was too light, and the form too bulky.  Del then.  It couldn't have been Richard-- Julia would never have allowed that.  She hesitated to call out and wake him, but she was awfully thirsty.  And lonely, and scared, she admitted grudgingly.  "Del?"

                The form shifted, with a slight yelp of pain.  "Caroline?"  The moonlight flashed across round lenses as one long hand chased the wire frames across the lamp-stand.  

                Caroline gasped.  "Richard?  I thought you were Del.  I'm so sorry to wake you..."

                The dry chuckle made her grin.  "Oh, so you wouldn't have minded waking Del?  Hmm.  I don't know whether to feel complimented or unwanted..."

                "No, no, no, you're wanted," she hastily assured him, and then blushed; glad the moon was not shining on her face. 

                "Thanks for clearing that up," came the subdued reply, as the figure sat up slowly on the couch.  "Oh, these things are _not comfortable.  It's probably best that I'm moving around... I might have needed to be put in traction by morning.  Want anything else, while I'm awake?"_

                She looked at him wistfully, secure in the darkness.  "Did you happen to save that ginger ale you brought for me earlier?"

                "Are you kidding, that was a perfectly good bottle of ginger ale.  Be right back."  He stood up and slipped out the door.  Caroline tried to pinch herself awake in the meantime, in sheer terror that she would blurt out something to embarrass them both.  

                When Richard came back with the ginger ale, she felt much calmer.  He switched on the lamp to the lowest setting, enough so that she could see to drink and talk to him.  She took the cold ginger ale from his hand gratefully, smiling at his ruffled appearance. "Why, Richard, you look like you just woke up."  

                His eyes darted to hers for just a moment.  A corner of his mouth turned up.  "What an astute observation-- I think you're feeling better.  You are feeling better?"  The dry tone turned to concern swiftly enough that she realized how thin his veneer of humor really was.  

                "Yes, I'm much better, Richard," she assured him again, trying to sound like it. 

                He looked at her very directly.  "I wouldn't go _that far," he snorted.  She shrugged ruefully.  _

                The sad little smile on her bruised face caused him to choke back all the questions he wanted to have answered, and all the apologies he wanted to make. It's not the time, he berated himself furiously. There would be plenty of time to deal with what needed dealing with.  Later.  "So, have they been treating you well?"

                She grinned suddenly.  "Well enough, although until you came, I wasn't getting any better.  Trust you to remember that this," she held up the bottle, "is the only thing that ever helps."

                Richard's glasses came off again, and he scrubbed at his face vigorously.  His tone became deceptively light. "Hmm...  well, you did make it quite memorable the last time.  Remember the post-it on Salty's tail?"

                "OH!"  Caroline's eyes widened.  "Salty... did somebody feed Salty today?  Oh, my poor baby..."  

                "Don't worry, I fed her, and gave her fresh water," Richard interrupted hastily, spreading his hands in a placating gesture.  Caroline looked at him in amazement.

                "_You did?  But, you swore you would never take care of 'the beast' without double pay..."  _

                Her colorist shrugged uncomfortably.  "It's a special situation.  Besides, I was there, and no one else was.  Oh, and by the way, you don't have to work for a while, until you feel up to it.  I turned in a batch of those emergency strips we did together a few months back."

                "Emergency strips..." Her eyes widened. "Oh, I remember those!  I thought we'd used all those already.... rats, and now I'm going to be out of sequence.  What will people think?" She sighed fretfully.  Richard's blue eyes met hers as he patted her hand soothingly.

                "I had the editor put a disclaimer in your strip so there wouldn't be any confusion on the part of your readers.  You'll be able to pick up right where you left off.  As long as you don't mind getting a heap of well-wisher cards every day in your mailbox," he amended thoughtfully.

                Caroline was lost in shock.  "Richard, you're taking care of _everything for me.  How... why... oh, never mind," she stumbled over her thoughts.  "Thank you, so much."_

                "You're welcome," came the soft reply.

                "I'll bet this is the first time you've slept in the last day or so," she suddenly realized.  "Now I really _am sorry I woke you up.  Go ahead and go back to sleep.  Turn out the light.  I'll be fine."_

                Richard finally noticed that he hadn't removed his hand from Caroline's yet, but she hadn't seemed to mind.  A little nervously, he let it be.  "Caroline, I'm an artist.  I'm used to ridiculous hours.  If you want to sleep, I'll turn out the light, but I'll be awake anyway, so..."

                She looked down at her hands, and covered his with hers, effectively trapping it.  "Well, if you'll be awake anyway, then...." she hesitated for a long moment, not looking up.  

                He hauled a chair over to the bed with one arm.  "Do you want to talk?" he questioned carefully.  "I think you should know, I'm not the best person to talk to about this, but since I'm here, I'll try."

                Caroline exhaled softly.  "Richard, you don't give yourself enough credit."

                "Neither do the banks, but I suppose they have a reason..." His cynical quip made her laugh, but she sobered quickly.

                "Richard, I am so sorry about everything that happened last night.  I mean, the dinner fiasco, and bothering you--"

                "Bothering me?" Richard interrupted.  "Now you sound like you've been talking to Julia.  Stop it."

                "I _have been talking to Julia," Caroline muttered unhappily._

                "Well, ignore that.  If you bother me, I'll tell you."

                "I know," she whispered. "But, why wouldn't you be bothered?  After all, she's right.   I do 'need' you too much."

                The blue eyes locked with hers, dismayed.  "Do you honestly think that?"  Richard blurted before he could stop himself. 

                "Well, you do have a life outside of work, after all.  And I keep butting in.  I guess I tend to forget that I'm really just your boss."

                The hand she was holding slackened its grip, and Richard's face turned white.   "No. Caroline..." He dropped his head again.  "I'd like to think that I've been your friend, too. Maybe I'm not very good at it, but then, I don't have much practice. And," he continued softly, "it's rather nice to be 'needed'."

                Caroline reached to touch his hair gently.  "Richard, you _are a good friend. I do wonder if I take advantage of that, though, when I'm feeling lonely.  Please, don't feel like you have to be there for me all the time."_

                "Well, I wasn't, was I?" came the predictable retort.

                "Oh, stop it, Richard.  I invited my own trouble inside last night, and I took the consequences, I suppose." She thought her tone was neutral enough, but Richard's head jerked up in wild surmise.

                "So it _was him.  I knew I should have taken you home.  It would have made sense-- we live closer to you than he does.  I __knew something was wrong."  His stricken expression made her cringe._

                "NO!  I mean, stop it Richard, or I'm going to have to get up and shake sense into you," she gasped. "I won't let you blame yourself for my state of mind last night.  I made my choice, and it turned out to be a bad one."

                She was shaking, now, and Richard grasped her hands tightly, concerned, and furious with himself for reacting so strongly. "Caroline, you don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. I'm sorry to have pushed you.  I just couldn't bear-- oh, never mind." He tipped her chin up with a finger and gave her a rueful half-smile.  "With all of that apologizing, you were starting to remind me of someone else we know."

                "Thank you, Richard," she murmured as he draped an arm over her shoulder and gently hugged her.  She leaned against him, pressing her head against his warm chest.  His heart beat quickly through the soft black cotton of his shirt, and she clung to him for as long as she dared, enjoying this contact that she knew he normally avoided.  When she felt his hands began to tremble, she finally let go.  "I think I can sleep now.  Good night."

                "Good night, Caroline," came the strangely hushed reply.  The light was swiftly turned out.  "Sleep well."

                As he settled back onto the couch in the darkened room, the wistful smile crept back to her face.  Perhaps things would be all right, after all.

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To be continued…

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Author's Note:  Calamity strikes and true friends—and loves—shine through.  Okay, it's a bit of a romantic notion.  But hey, this is fiction, to heck with reality once in a while.  J  ~~Arallion 


	4. Personal Growth

Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance

Chapter Four:  Personal Growth

By  S. Arallion

**Disclaimer**:  All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders—namely, not myself.  Anything you don't recognize is my fault.  I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters.  ~~Arallion

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                "Well, good morning sleepyhead," Annie's voice came cheerily.  Caroline rolled over and smiled.  Richard peered at her blearily from under his forearm and groaned.

                "Hey, now we know why you never get to work before ten o'clock," the dancer grinned at him.  "Wow, scary."

                "As I recall, you're not much of a morning person yourself," Richard growled, struggling to sit up on the hard couch.  Finally untangling the blanket, he sat up with an expression of pain on his face, rubbing his neck.  "Oh, god.  I may never recover from this.  Caroline, do you think you can handle having Quasimoto as your assistant?"  

                Caroline laughed, sitting up in the bed.  "We could always have Annie's friend give you a massage..." Annie winked at her, still grinning.

                "Which friend?"  Richard asked, giving them a suspicious look.  "On second thought, I think I'll pass."

                "You look better this morning," Annie noticed, sitting down in the chair next to Caroline's bed. 

                "I feel much better," Caroline admitted.  "I'm really grateful to have you guys here, though.  You know how I hate hospitals, Annie."  Her friend shrugged and gripped her hand.

                "I know.  That's why I'm here-- to help you enjoy being waited on hand and foot by some of these gorgeous male nurses."

                Caroline gave her a look.  "The only nurses I've seen so far have been matronly ladies.  I think they're afraid of scaring me."  She sighed.  "I am so ready to go home, I can hardly stand to sit here."

                Annie grinned sympathetically.  "Like having ten moms, huh?  Not to mention Richard and Del playing the mother hen.... I don't think you're going to get away from the mothering just by going home."

                "Yeah, but I don't have to be polite to them if they drive me nuts," Caroline pointed out.  Richard winced.  

                "All right, I wouldn't want my presence to keep you two from talking about anything," he grumbled, smiling slightly.  "I'm going to go check on some things, and try to wake up.  I'll check in on you later?"

                "See ya, Richie," Annie trilled, batting her eyes at him. He narrowed his eyes at her and made a clawing motion in her direction, which made both her and Caroline laugh.

                "'Bye."

                Annie giggled a bit more.  "So, Caroline."

                "What?" the cartoonist smiled. 

                "Don't do something like this again, if you can help it, okay?  I was worried sick."

                Caroline grabbed her friend in a strong hug.  "I'm so sorry, Annie.  I don't know why I was so stupid-- but y'know, he seemed like a nice guy, and-- oh, I don't know what went wrong!" She was crying now, but it felt good to talk about it.  

                Annie held her, sniffling a little herself.  "Oh, Caroline, knock it off.  You're _not stupid.  You just decided to trust Trevor--hey, he __looked good-- and he turned out to be a really sneaky jerk!  How could you have known?  You'd gone out with him lots of times, and he was nice, right?"_

                "Yes," came the choked response.

                "Well, it wasn't your fault then.  He should have been smart enough to know when no means _no._"  She snorted.  "Boy, if I ever see him again, I'm gonna give him a _pas de deux right in the face."_

                Caroline smiled half-heartedly.  "But the thing is, Annie... I think it really was my fault."  Her friend looked at her disbelievingly.  "No, wait.  You know how I was throwing a dinner party for Richard and Julia, and Trevor and I?"

                "Yeah, I thought about listening at the door," Annie sniffed.  "When you told me, I thought; 'Twilight Zone'...."

                Caroline rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, yeah.  I didn't do it just on a whim, though. Did you know that Richard used to be interested in me?"

                Annie stared at her, and let out a shout of laughter.  "Did I know?  Are you kidding?  I was using it as blackmail!"

                "You _knew?" Caroline gasped.  "And you didn't tell me?"  _

                "I was going to, Caroline, but he got really weird about it.  Actually, I was afraid he'd take off again like when you were going to get married.  So I promised not to."

                Caroline sighed bitterly.  "Well, 'what if's obviously won't help now.  Anyway, he told me, about a week ago.  We both had other people in our lives, though, so we sort of agreed to put it behind us and go on with our lives.  I threw the dinner party to prove to myself that everything was over, I think."

                "Ooo, bad move," Annie surmised, patting her friend's shoulder sympathetically.

                "No kidding.  It was a disaster, and all I ended up proving was that he was over me, but I wasn't over him."  Her eyes dropped. "I told him about my message that Julia erased.  He asked her about it, and she asked if it would have made any difference.  You know the way she is... anyway, he said it wouldn't have.  He still would have married her."

                Annie had a thoughtful expression on her face.  "He said this in front of you?"

                "Well, um, no."  Caroline blushed.  "I wasn't eavedropping, really.  I just forgot my purse and went back in to get it, and they were talking.  But I was so embarrassed... I guess I just decided that enough was enough, and I was going to have to move on."

                "And so what happened?"

                "Well…" Caroline's eyes dropped, and her face tightened.  "When I went out to the lobby, Trevor was waiting for me.  I asked him if he'd like to come over.  But somewhere between that point and when we got into my apartment I started having second thoughts.  We had a drink and talked for a while, and I remember he was acting a little weird, but I really didn't think about it."  

                Annie clenched her fist tightly in the blanket as she watched her best friend stubbornly trying to reconstruct the experience, noticing the tears starting to track quietly down her cheeks.  "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she mumbled gently, covering Caroline's small hand with her own.

                The red hair tossed defiantly.  "No, I get this funny feeling that I need to tell someone about it.  I'm sorry, if you don't want me to tell you I won't…." Caroline's grey eyes looked up at her suddenly, concerned.  Annie snorted, feeling guilty for having given her that idea, and ticked off at herself for not having read all the pamphlets the nurse had given them when they first came into the hospital.

                "You can tell me anything, Care, you know that.  I'm here for ya.  Go on."   

                "Okay," Caroline sniffled softly.  "So, I went upstairs for a few minutes, to sort myself out and change into more comfortable clothes.  But when I came out of the closet the lights were off.  I remember Trevor saying something about 'waiting all night for this' and he was hanging on to me.  I think I must have blurted something out about what happened with Richard, and that I wasn't ready yet, and that's when everything really went berserk.  I don't remember much else, besides trying to get away."  

Annie had put her arm around Caroline's neck carefully during her outburst, as her friend's sentences became more broken with sobs.  "It's okay, Care," she said, feeling helpless.  It wasn't okay, but she didn't know what else to say.  

Caroline's head popped up abruptly. "I thumped him good on the head with my big vase though," she said vehemently.

                "Good!" Annie growled, squeezing Caroline's shoulders comfortingly.  There was silence for a moment.  _Well, I might as well be the one to say it…_ She cleared her throat awkwardly.

 "I think you should blow the whistle on him too, just so you know."

                Caroline looked shocked.  "But—he'll just say I led him on.  I did invite him up."

                "So?" The dancer's face grew stern. This was something she knew how to answer.  "Look, Care, it doesn't matter.  Even if a guy thinks he can _expect_ it, if the woman says no, that should be the end of the discussion.  I've had to do that myself a few times."  She caught the look Caroline shot her and waved her hands in exasperation.  "I _have_ said 'no', no matter what your resident Angel of Doom says."

Caroline didn't seem very convinced, but almost smiled at the defensive comment.  

Annie sighed.  Taking things slow had always been tough for her.  "Anyway, the point is, you do what you feel you have to do now.  I just want you to know that whatever you decide, we'll all support you.  We think you're the best."

                "Thanks," the cartoonist mumbled forlornly, wiping at her face with the blanket.

                Annie sighed.  "Man, Caroline, I really don't know what to do with you sometimes.  Between you and Mr. Misery-Is-My-Middle-Name, I think I have a full-time job."

                "What do you mean?" Caroline grabbed the tissue Annie handed her and wiped her eyes, unable to keep from grinning at the nicknames Annie kept coming up with for Richard.  

                "Look, if you had seen his face the other night--" Annie broke off impatiently.  "Let's just say that if You-Know-Who had been dumb enough to put in an appearance, he'd be trying to sort out his teeth right now.  Richard left Julia in the middle of the night to come find you, and judging from his appearance, I don't think he's been home since.  Take my word, there's more than friendship going on here."

                Caroline stared at her, mouth open.  "Seriously?  He did that for me?"

                "Yup," the dancer said smugly.  

"So what do you expect me to do, Annie? Ask him?"

                "Well?"

                "I can't _do that!  He's __married!"  Her small hands throttled the bedspread.  _

                "So?  Del was married, twice.  People make mistakes, especially when they have pushy folk like Julia to contend with."

                "But I can't, Annie," Caroline wailed.  "I'm just not that kind of person.  And, especially now, I'm a mess…"

                "Okay, look."  Annie grabbed Caroline's arms and stared into her face.  "You're a bigger mess without him.  Either you can sit across from him at that desk and get more and more depressed every day because you know what you have to do to be happy, but you're too chicken to try, or you can take control of your life."

                Caroline blinked, and a puzzled line appeared between her eyebrows. "Annie, you lost me with that one."

                "Well, I got it from a soap opera.  Never mind." Annie shrugged.  "Caroline, do you _really think you would be happy with him?"  The grey eyes dropped again.  "Yeah, you do.  And from my perspective-- I can't believe I'm saying this-- I think you two would be great for each other.  So take the reins, girl.  Stop letting life push you around.  Stop letting Julia push you both around, and give her a taste of her own medicine!"_

                "What... you mean, come on to him?"

                "Why not?  If the spirit moves you," Annie replied with a pious expression worthy of a Harlem gospel singer. Caroline dropped her head into her hands.

                "So you really think he still has feelings for me."

                Her friend squeezed her hands comfortingly. "Hey, if you don't believe me, just smile at him real big when he comes in later on, and see what he does."  

                Slowly, an answering grin spread across Caroline's face, and they sat beaming at each other like contented cats.

                "So.... what's going on in the soaps today?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                Richard opened the door of his apartment cautiously, not sure what to expect as a welcome. There was no flamethrower, no knife launching at him, and consequently no Julia. Sighing, he stepped inside and looked around.

                Julia's things were collected in bags and boxes on the bed.  The apartment was strangely bare without them, but it had never actually felt like a home anyway.  He raised an eyebrow as he realized that even when faced with the physical evidence of Julia's leaving, he wasn't feeling anything.  He'd expected to feel something.  Fear, perhaps.  Or the ever-present feeling of inadequacy… but even that rabid shrieking monster hadn't made an appearance yet.  Maybe he was in shock.  He grabbed a change of clothing from the closet and headed for the shower.

                Julia was waiting for him when he came out.  She sat demurely on the bed, appearing as beautiful as she ever had.  Like some lovely stone sculpture, easy on the eyes. "Hello, Richard."

                "Hello, Julia."  He finished buttoning his shirt, staring straight at her.  She actually fidgeted.  "Are you going somewhere?"

                Her hands fluttered vaguely over the packages.  "Ah, this.  I thought it might be best, considering..."

                "You're probably right," he responded coolly.  "Considering..."

                She folded more quickly than he'd expected.  "Oh, my darling, please understand.  I was just so angry that she was coming again to disturb us...  She is always coming between us.  I felt like I was losing you, Richard."  Her dark eyes pleaded with him, beguiled him, but he was having none of it.

                He sat down beside her on the bed.  "I'm sorry, Julia.  I know you're used to being the only thing of importance in my life, and you were, once.  But when you left the first time, I guess I had to find something else to fill that void."  The blue eyes dropped thoughtfully.  "I tried very hard not to need anyone in my life before I met you, Julia. You remember that.  I suppose that after you, I never had a chance to make it back to that state."

                Julia was staring at him curiously.  "I'm not sure I understand what you are telling me, caro mia."

                He sighed.  "What I'm telling you is that I've changed, Julia.  Caroline, and Del, and Annie, and even Charlie," he said with a slightly surprised look, "are all very special to me.  I've never had friends like this before.  I was hoping that somehow you could be part of all this, learn to care for them as I do, but...  It just never worked out.  And now-- maybe it's a flaw in me, but I can't push all of them aside for you!  Especially not in emergencies like the night before last."  

                She tried to touch his face, but he caught her hand in his instead. The numbness in his heart was being replaced, but only by a strong feeling of pity, and a desire to make her understand.  "Listen to me, Julia.  The night before last, Caroline was attacked by the fellow she was seeing.  It wasn't a scheme to come between us.  She came here, frightened and confused, but you didn't even let her come inside to dry off."  His tone became deliberate.  "_That is what you've lost me over.  Not any 'feelings' I might have had for Caroline, or my long hours at work, or any other circumstance you might envision.  I just can't find it in myself to love someone with such a complete lack of consideration for anyone else."_

                Slightly shocked at learning the reason for Caroline's visit, Julia's face stiffened in pride.  "I would never have done this thing if it weren't for the fact that you are in love with her, and not me. She stole you from me, and I will never forgive her for that."  Her head tossed indignantly as she flung the accusation at him.

                Richard closed his eyes in sudden pain for a moment.  "I can't convince you otherwise."

                "Because it is true!"

                "Maybe.  But if that's so," he said thoughtfully, "then you can't play the martyr.  You stole me from her first."  

                Her face turned white.  "I don't have to listen to this, Richard.  You are just making excuses."

                "Probably," he sighed, releasing her hand.  "I really am sorry, Julia.  I did love you very much, once."

                She rose and stared down at him uncertainly. "I think I shall be going back to Italy now.  I will send someone to pick up my things.  If you would be so kind...?"

                "I'll make sure everything is all right.  Good luck."

                "Are you absolutely sure about this, caro mia?" she murmured, touching him softly on the cheek.  He looked up at her sadly, across the huge gulf of comprehension that lay between them.

                "Goodbye, Julia."

                She hesitated on the way out the door, and set something on the table.  "Goodbye, Richard."

                When the door closed, he finally wept.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued…

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Author's Note:  The reviews I've received so far have been wonderful.  I hope the story continues to meet your expectations!  


	5. Ice Cream

Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance

Chapter Five:  Ice Cream

By  S. Arallion

**Disclaimer**:  All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders—namely, not myself.  Anything you don't recognize is my fault.  I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters.  ~~Arallion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                There was a knock at the door to Caroline's apartment.  Three voices yelled "Come in!" in raucous unison, and the door opened slowly.  Richard stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised, looking warily inside.  

                "What," he said dryly, "is going on?"

                "Ice cream," Charlie's voice was heard, a bit muffled.  His head popped up from the couch.  "Want some?"

                Suppressing a smile with a grimace, Richard stepped inside and hung his coat on the rack. He looked pointedly at the container Charlie was eating out of.  "Is that the only carton?  Because if it is, I'll pass."

                "Nah, we bought several," Annie replied.  "Caroline went a little berserk when we passed the frozen foods section."  She reached in to the freezer and pulled out an assortment of flavors, mainly variations on chocolate.  "We found one for you; it's called 'Triple Dark'.  You know, so if you spill any, you won't see it on your clothes."

                Richard wasn't listening; he was glancing around the room. "Caroline's here?  Where is she?"

                "Up in her room, getting a decent shower.  Why?"

                "Oh my god, no..." The artist leaped for the stairs.  Annie leaped after him and grabbed his shirt collar, bringing him to an abrupt stop. "Ack!  Annie, let go!"

                She slid in front of him.  "Hey, Richie, I can understand your wanting to see Caroline, but don't you think she should shower in private?"  He rolled his eyes at her, but he still looked panicked. "No, really, what's wrong?"

                He lowered his voice to a whisper.  "I didn't have time to finish cleaning the carpet.  Where-- you know."

                "Oh, is that all," Annie said calmly.  "Don't worry, Richard.  Del got your message, and it was cleaned this morning.  Wa-a-ay before we got here."  She patted him on the back as his breath whooshed out in relief.

                "Thanks for the heart attack, Annie.  You couldn't have told me that earlier?"  He glared at her and stomped over to his side of the drawing table.

                "You didn't ask, you just acted," Annie said archly.  "Which, by the way, you could stand to do more often--"

                "Enough, O Queen of Observation."  Richard cut in.  "Where's that ice cream?"

                "Get it yourself, Beelzebub.  It's behind me." Richard's eyes flickered in surprise, and he gave her a grudging smile. She smirked.

                "Huh?" yelled Charlie from the couch. "Oh hey, Annie, you gotta see this.  It's Rosie and she's going on about Tom Cruise again."  Annie dashed over and stared at the TV with Charlie.

                "Just when I think she's only pretending to be a bimbo," Richard muttered wryly.

                "Hey, I heard that," Annie growled.  "By the way, Richard, you look terrible.  I mean, more terrible than usual." He glared at her as he searched for a spoon, and contemplated flicking the lid of the ice cream across the room at her.

                "Annie?" a familiar voice called from the stairs.  "Hey, Annie--"

                Annie glanced up from the television. "Caroline? Get down here for a sec., you gotta see this."

                Feet pattered down the stairs, and the slim, redhaired cartoonist dashed over to her friends clad in nothing but a towel.  Richard dropped his spoon onto the floor.  "Oh, hello, Richard," she smiled, dimples flashing into view.  "Did you go to the hospital first, or here?"

                "Hospital," he muttered from behind the counter, pretending to grope around on the floor for the spoon.

                "I was going to call your apartment and tell you we were leaving, but the nurses were rushing me around so much I sort of lost track of things."

                "It's all right, Caroline," he replied.

                "What are you doing on the floor?"

                Damn, he thought.  "Um... dropped something.  Ah, here it is."  He turned quickly and began washing the offending item in the sink.

                Caroline looked uncomprehendingly at Annie, who winked and indicated the towel she was wearing.  She made an "OH!" face, then smiled mischievously.

                "Hey."  Richard turned automatically when she spoke.  His face froze, and very carefully he looked directly into her eyes.  "You do know we have a dishwasher, right?"

                His laugh sounded a bit forced.  "Of course.  I was just... going to use it again.  I like this spoon." 

                Caroline stepped in close and examined the spoon, her hand "accidentally" touching his.  This was almost fun... "Oh, yeah.  These are good ice cream spoons.  I think I got them from my Great-Grandma."  She grinned at him.  "Can I have a taste?"

                "Ah... sure, Caroline."  He scooped a bit out for her.  She took the spoon and the bite, and closed her eyes to savor it.  It _was good; rich, dark chocolate.  She was having more fun watching Richard, though._

                "Caroline!" Annie called.  

                Aww, Mom, Caroline thought with an inward chuckle.  She handed the spoon back to the speechless artist.  "Thank you, Richard."  

                Annie grabbed her hand and sat her on the couch facing the TV.  "Hey, go easy on the poor guy!" she grinned.  

                "What do you mean?  You just told me to flirt with him earlier," Caroline whispered, surprised.

                "I mean, look at him."  They both sneaked a peek.  "He looks like he's going to pass out."

                Richard was leaning against the counter, studying the spoon forlornly.  As they watched, he shook his head and dug into the ice cream.  

                "Oh, boy, this will be easier than I thought.  All he needs is a little push," Annie snickered.  At Caroline's confused expression, she elaborated.  "He didn't even wash that spoon."

                "So?"  Caroline was still confused.

                Annie stared at her. "Oh, please.  This is Richard, remember?  Mr. 'I don't like to be touched'?  He's got it _bad."  They both laughed so hard that even Charlie noticed._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                They were still there several hours later when Del showed up to check on Caroline.  Richard had retreated into his corner and he and Annie continued to snipe at one another from across the room, more to keep Caroline laughing than from any real irritation.  He was working on a stack of cards that Caroline had lost before getting them to him.  He'd found them while cleaning the day before. Caroline was curled up on the couch, trying to draw but generally falling asleep in the middle of anything she started.  

                "Hi everybody, how's stuff?"

                Richard and Annie exchanged looks.  "Stuff?" said Annie.

                "Nah, too easy," replied the artist, going back to his work with the studious expression that meant he was trying not to smile.

                "Hi, Del," Caroline smiled up at him.  "I'm not getting much done.  I'm sorry."

                He shrugged. "Thanks to Richard, you don't need to.  Whenever you're ready.  I think you have about a month's worth of extra strips."  

                "A _month?" She sat up.  "Del, you're kidding, right?"_

                "Nope, that's what I've got at the shop.  And then there's those cards--" He broke off as Caroline stared at him, stunned.

                "What cards?"  

                "Oh, the ones Richard is working on," Del said airily.  Caroline dashed over to Richard's desk as he looked up at her sheepishly.

                "I lost these months ago," she exclaimed.  "Did you have them all this time?"

                "No, actually--" Richard began, but Del interrupted.

                "Richard found them yesterday when he cleaned your apartment," Del said blithely.  Annie, across the room, gave him a huge thumbs-up sign.  Richard flinched visibly as his employer turned to him.  

                "You cleaned my apartment for me?" she asked softly. 

                Cautiously, he nodded, silently promising vengeance to Annie.  "I found the cards under the chair."

                "Thank you, Richard, that was sweet."  She kissed him lightly on the cheek and gazed at the cards that were left.  "I'd better get started again, or you'll be running out of things to work on.  Or would you like a vacation?  You and Julia could take a trip or something..." She trailed off as his face paled slightly.

                "That's all right, Caroline," he managed to say finally.  "Julia is... out of town."

                Del interrupted again. "Caroline, actually, that wasn't the good news I had for you."

                "You had good news for me? Wow, don't hold back," she muttered, glancing concernedly at Richard who had immediately buried himself in his work again.  

                "Remember that award you were up for, from the National Syndicate?  You won."

He grinned at her charmingly.

                "I _what!!!"   Her jaw dropped.  Annie leaped off the chair with a yell.  Richard's head snapped up, a rare smile on his face. _

                "Congratulations."

                "I won!  Ohmigosh!  Wow, how did that happen," she gasped, her eyes wide and excited.  "So what do I have to do now?"

                "Well, there's a dinner, and you have to go and give a speech.  It's next Wednesday."  Del was still grinning, but Caroline's face fell.  "What's wrong?"

                "Well, just look at me, Del.  Next week I'm going to be bunches of shades of purple and blue.  What am I going to do?"

                "Richard could paint on you, then you'd look like you were doing the Cher thing," Annie suggested facetiously.  Caroline swatted at her in exasperation, and missed the slight flush that stained her assistant's cheeks.

                "Come on, you guys.  It may not seem important to you, but you won't be getting up in front of an audience.  What can I do?"

                Richard sighed, unable to continue pretending disinterest while they talked in his ear.  "What's the name of that facial guru you were going to for a while, Del?  And don't play dumb, we all know about it."

                "Charlie blabbed..." Del groaned. "Yeah, she was really good.  I can get you an appointment or two with her, Caroline.  Maybe she can convince those bruises to vacate a little earlier."

                Caroline looked at him gratefully.  "Thanks, Del, you're a real pal.  Anything else I should know?"

                "Well, you should probably have an escort," he said reluctantly.  

                The cartoonist grimaced. "That is so sexist.  Not you, Del, the idea," she reassured him.  "Well, I suppose you're too busy to go?"

                "Nope, but I'm already going with someone."

                "I don't suppose I could go with Annie?"

                Del looked at her curiously.  "Umm... is there something you're not telling us?"  

                She threw a pencil at him.  "Okay, I get the point."

                "No, he did," murmured Richard, then ducked as another pencil flew in his direction.

                "Well, I don't know anyone else to go with, except maybe Charlie..." Caroline sighed glumly.

                "What about Richard?"  Del suggested.

                "No," said Richard automatically.

                "See?" shrugged the slim cartoonist.  "He couldn't do that anyway, even if he wanted to.  Julia would have a fit."

                "No she wouldn't," Annie cut in briskly.  "Right, Richie?  Anyway, she's not here."  Caroline looked at her in shock, but Annie was staring intently at Richard, who was avoiding her eyes just as intently.

                "Well, actually--" he began, shifting uncomfortably.

                "Caroline, you _can't go with Charlie," Del snorted.  "Think about it.  Charlie, at a black-tie dinner and dance?"_

                Caroline winced. "I suppose the rollerblades would be a bit much," she chuckled.

                "You heard the man, Richard," Annie grinned.  "Caroline _can't go with Charlie."_

                Richard sat back on his stool and shoved his glasses back into place on his nose with a sharp glance at the smirking dancer.  Sighing, he looked seriously at Caroline for a long moment.  "Caroline, would you like me to escort you on Wednesday?"

                She looked across the table at him with uncertainty in her eyes.  "Richard, don't let them push you into this.  I can find someone, I suppose..."

                "You didn't answer my question, though," Richard broke in quietly, still gazing at her.  "Would you like me to escort you?"

                "Would you?" whispered Caroline hopefully.

                "Hey, great, it's all settled then," Annie burst in with an arm around her friend's neck and a sly smile for Richard.  "Caroline, we'll get you all fixed up so you'll feel wonderful, and Richard, you'd better find a tux."

                "All right," the artist muttered, his eyes sliding away from Annie's challenging gaze.  "But I won't dance."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:  Caroline is surrounded by friends and looking as if she feels better about things.  I've never pegged her as the sort to inflict her personal traumas on other people  for days on end, so hence the lack of focus on that aspect at this time.  If you feel otherwise, feel free to comment!  ~~Arallion


	6. Business As Usual

Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance

Chapter Six:  Business As Usual

By  S. Arallion

**Disclaimer**:  All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders—namely, not myself.  Anything you don't recognize is my fault.  I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters.  ~~Arallion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                On Monday, Richard came in to work his usual hour late, more out of habit than any real need to sleep in.  He had been working on several paintings over the weekend, but he'd risen early every day, unable to sleep in for worry.  He had even bought coffee at Remo's, since he'd arrived in Caroline's neighborhood early but didn't want to alert her to his nerves.

                The apartment was strangely quiet, except for Salty, who meowed at him in a friendly tone.  He made a horrendous face at the cat, but she seemed to have made up her mind that he had been lying about hating her, and trotted over to wrap about his ankles as he walked to the coffeemaker.  Rolling his eyes, he leaned over and gave her a quick ear-scratching, which resulted in an embarrassingly loud purr.

                He stopped in surprise. Caroline usually waited for him to make coffee when he arrived, since he tended to complain raucously about her results.  It appeared that she'd been doing it on her own, though, since there was very little coffee left to use.  He chided himself for analyzing too much, but the events of the last week had left his senses tightly wound.  The events of the day so far had done nothing to reassure him.  Sighing worriedly, he started a pot of coffee and went to his side of the desk to get to work.

                "Oh, Richard, it was you," a soft voice murmured from the stairs.  He glanced up and saw Caroline, tousled-looking and still in her bathrobe, peering down at him.

                "Good morning Caroline," he said briskly, trying to hide his dismay.  She was normally awake much earlier than this, and she looked like she hadn't slept more than two hours anyway.  "Coffee will be ready in a few minutes, and would you mind reminding your cat that I don't like her?"  Salty had climbed onto the windowsill behind Richard and was purring at him adoringly.

                Caroline stepped further down the stairs, and looked disbelievingly at the cat.  "Wow.  Richard, I don't think I can do that."

                "Why not?" he said in an exasperated tone.

                She snickered.  "Because it's _really cute.  The look she's giving you is just priceless." Thumping the rest of the way down the stairs into the kitchen, she pulled out some bagels and fruit for breakfast, grinning in wonder at small miracles._

                Richard glared at the cat, who purred louder, and made a big deal out of sulking about the situation.  Watching Caroline's smiling face from the corner of his eye, however, more than made up for the inconvenience.  And when he thought she wasn't looking, he reached over and caressed Salty's ears in gratitude.

                "Hey, there's coffee in here, I can smell it," Annie announced as she barged through the door.  She stopped and looked at Caroline's attire curiously.  "Hey, girlfriend, you're going sort of casual today, hmm?  You don't usually wear this sort of thing at this time of day."

                "How would you know what she wears at this time of day?"  Richard retorted.  "You're never awake to see..." The dancer stuck her tongue out and proceeded to ignore him.

                "I know," Caroline smiled.  "I just thought I'd give myself a little vacation, Annie.  You know, stay up late, get up late, do things that are less than constructive..." The tone rang flat to both of her friends' ears despite her attempt at a contented expression, and she saw them exchange cautious looks. "Guys, I'm fine.  Stop finding something to worry about in everything I do," she snorted.

                Richard buried his head in his work again with a hint of embarrassment.  Annie, less easily cowed, looked at her very directly.  "I'm sorry if it bugs you, Caroline," she stated. "I just don't know for sure that you'd tell us if something were wrong, so we have to keep guessing."

                "I promise I'll let you know," Caroline said in a subdued voice, handing a mug of coffee to her friend.  "Thanks, both of you.  But really, I'm fine."

                Annie wasn't convinced, but she drank her coffee without comment.  "So, are you going to get ready for your trip to town today?"

                "Yes," the redheaded cartoonist sighed.  "I almost forgot, but then I saw my face in the mirror..." She indicated the darkening bruises on her cheekbones with some asperity.  "You're coming with me, right, Annie?"

                "Sure, buddy."  Annie draped an arm over her friend's shoulder.  "And we're looking for a dress, too, I assume?"  She grinned widely.  "Hurry up, take your shower.  Let's go!"

                Richard looked up from his work to the sight and groaned sardonically as Caroline started back up the stairs with her coffee cup. "Oh, no, it's the shopping face.  Hide your credit cards, Caroline..."

                "Oh, shut up, Richard," Annie snapped.  "Did you get your tux yet?"

                "Yes," he said mildly.  "Why are _you going shopping?  Crashing the ceremony?"_

                She looked at him flatly.  "I have a date."

                "Really?" he murmured, eyes on his work.  "Cash, credit or charity case?"  He twitched to the side, causing Annie's swat to miss his arm completely.  

                "You know, you've gone for almost five days without calling me a tramp," the dark-haired dancer suddenly noted in surprise.  Richard glanced up at her, confused.

                "What, did you miss it?" he asked lightly.

                She gave him an unaccustomedly straight smile.  "Yeah, kind of."

                Shaking his head ruefully, he sat up and stretched.  "I won't neglect you again," he promised.  Salty chose that moment to decide that _she was being neglected, and hopped onto his lap, drawing a shout of laughter from Annie and a yelp of dismay from Richard.  Oblivious to the commotion, the cat settled in, purring loudly._

                "Richie, you made a friend," Annie cooed, still laughing.  "I thought you hated cats."

                "I tried to tell her that, but she's not listening to reason," the artist muttered, rubbing the cat's soft ears in spite of himself.  Annie was loving this, he knew.

                "Hey, like owner, like pet," the dancer quipped carelessly.  He shot her a dark glance, which she returned sassily.  "What?  I read it somewhere, don't give me that look.  All I have to say is that you'd better make sure all that white cat hair comes off before Caroline sees it, or your cover is blown." The snicker lurked in her voice, not quite escaping.

                Richard snorted and turned back to the unfinished panel, avoiding the subject as best he could until Caroline could finish her shower and distract his uncomfortably sharp nemesis with shopping.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                Wednesday evening came too quickly, and despite the wonders worked by Del's facial therapist, Caroline was still embarrassed to go without some help.  She and Annie had gone to a makeup artist to try and get stage makeup that wouldn't look obvious, while Richard finished up with Caroline's newest work.  The door opened just as he was starting her last panel.

                "Did you have a nice time, kids?" he drawled, not looking up.

                "Yes, I suppose," Caroline's voice sounded a little uncertain.  "Although I feel more like a painting than a person right now... I'm afraid to move my face."

                Annie sauntered over to the artist, put her head over the panel, and stuck her tongue out.  Richard snorted and made threatening motions with his pen.  "Hmm, how about a little blue... right there?"  She withdrew quickly, glaring half- seriously. He mimed brushing stuff off the paper.  "Eww, 'Cat'- hair..."

                "Oh, hey, what's that white stuff on your black shirt?" she asked abruptly, snickering as he looked down in panic.  He glared at her, annoyed, and then tried to ignore her.

                "Annie, stop bugging Richard and help me get dressed," Caroline called, a chuckle in her voice.  "And Richard?"

                "Hmm?"

                "Are you going home to change?"

                He looked up.  "Actually, I brought what I need.  Do you mind if I change here?  Oh, go _away_," he hissed as Annie leered at him.

                "No, that's fine," Caroline replied. "Del's gonna be here in less than an hour though, so you might want to think about getting ready."  They vanished upstairs.

                Twenty minutes later, Annie rushed down the stairs and out the door.  "Be back in a minute," she exclaimed to a confused Richard.  Shaking his head, he decided to get dressed.

                When Del came in, he found Richard pacing at the window, dressed in a very nice tailed tuxedo.  He grinned.  "Where is everybody?"

                Richard turned, startled. "Caroline is up there," he gestured.  "Somewhere.  I thought you said you were bringing someone?"

                Annie slipped through the door, dressed in a magnificent red velvet sheath dress.  "Why, hello hello," she whistled.  "Why do all men look marvelous in tuxedos?  Even you, Richie," she smirked.  

                "What are you all dressed up for?" he questioned.

                She pointed to Del.  "I'm his date."

                "_No."  Richard looked at Del sympathetically.  "I am so sorry..."_

                Del shrugged.  "Hey, I wanted us all to be there.  And, I couldn't get anyone else to go with me," he finished in a glum whisper.

                "Caroline would have," Richard protested. Del shrugged again, and Richard got the distinct feeling he was being ganged up upon.  He sighed, and began to sit back down at his desk, when Del's elbow caught him on the arm. "Ow, what is it-- oh!"

                Caroline was descending the stairs.  Her gown was of midnight blue satin, with an iridescently beaded jacket she'd chosen to cover her bruised arms.  Her face was almost flawless, although she looked as if she were afraid to smile.  Her short, glossy red hair shone, caught back with a beaded headband.  She was beautiful.

                She dimpled at them, a little embarrassed.  "Hi."

                "Wow," grinned Del.

                "Hey, put your eyes back in," Annie hissed at Richard, who was staring up with a rather forlorn expression on his face again.  He collected himself with a start.

                "Annie!  What are you doing back here?"  Caroline swept down the stairs. "You look great!  You have a date too?"

                "Yep," came the insouciant reply.  "With Del!"

                "Get out!"

                "I'm out!"

                "Oh, god," sighed Richard and Del together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:


	7. Did I Mention I Wouldn't Dance?

Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance

Chapter Seven: Did I Mention I Wouldn't Dance?

By  S. Arallion

**Disclaimer**:  All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders—namely, not myself.  Anything you don't recognize is my fault.  I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters.  ~~Arallion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                The conference room at the Plaza Hotel was ablaze with light from crystal chandeliers and candle-lit tables, reflected from a rainbow of chique, colorfully dressed humanity.  The National Syndicate was, apparently, very interested in creating the right image for their awards.

                "Wow, look at all the people," Caroline murmured, holding on to Richard's arm nervously.  "I somehow didn't think there'd be this many. There haven't been, at the others."  They were being led to a table near the front of the room by an immaculately dressed usher.  "Oh, this is lovely."  

                Richard tilted his head down to hear her, a questioning eyebrow raised.  "What do you mean, 'lovely', in that tone of voice?" 

                She smiled sheepishly. "I mean, as a guest of honor, sitting up here in the front, I can't sneak away if it's deadly boring.  And don't tell me you never skipped out on an awards ceremony before."

                He sniffed primly.  "Who me?  Are you kidding?  I-- oh, all right.  Whenever I got the chance. But I got away with it-- I was never unlucky enough to be important."  She giggled.

                They were all seated together, and Caroline insisted on being flanked by her friends "so that no one gets too close and sees the makeup".  They made small talk with the other guests at the table, and managed to keep questions about their last week's activities to a minimum.  Then the food arrived, and the rest of the evening was spent in surreptitious commentary about the quality and origin of the dishes.  Seated between Richard and Annie, Caroline was hardly able to eat a bite for laughing.

                The time came for acceptance speeches.  As Caroline's turn neared, a horrified look suddenly crossed her face.  "Oh, no, Richard-- I left my notes in my--"

                "Coat pocket?" he finished, pulling them from his jacket.  "I thought you might need them."

                She took them, the terrified expression changing to wonder.  "Richard, how _do you do that... Thank you, for the millionth time this week."  She kissed him again on the cheek and trotted up to the stage._

                Richard, blushing slightly, turned and saw Annie smiling at him. "What?" he asked defensively.

                "Give up now," she said cryptically, still smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                When the dinner and awards ceremony ended, the party began.  They were to adjourn to another room with a band and a bar, for some 'serious socializing', as Caroline called it.  She was more nervous about that than she'd been about the speech, it appeared.  Richard laughed mirthlessly.  For that matter, so was he.

                "Okay, we have to dance," Caroline whispered in his ear.  He jumped.  

                "Why?"

                "Because, everyone else is!  If I don't dance at least once with you, people are going to think something's wrong.  Come on, you've met some of them. You don't want them to start prying, do you?"  She glanced around nervously.  "The farther away from them I stay, the happier I am," she muttered.

                He looked at her sharply.  "All right.  One.  Maybe two, if necessary?  But I get to choose the dance."

                "Oh, thank you Richard. Thank you thank you thank--"  

                "Okay, okay," he interrupted.  "Save the groveling for when I can appreciate it."

                It was a good jazz band at least.  Del took Annie out on the floor immediately for an easy swing number, and Caroline and Richard found a table to perch at.

                "Would you like something to drink?" 

                "Oh, a glass of wine would be nice," she nodded.  

                "White, red, what?"  Getting an affirmation on white, Richard threaded his way across the room to the bar.

                Caroline watched his blond head move through the crowd, and dropped her chin into her hands wistfully.  _Men, she thought.  __Can't live with 'em.  Can't even work__ with 'em, she grinned.  She searched for Del and Annie on the dance floor, and laughed when she finally saw them.  Del was by no means a poor dancer, but Annie the professional was doing most of the leading.  It was really cute, she admitted, and knew she could never say anything to Del about it.  He would be mortified._

                "Caroline?"  Richard set the wine glass down in front of her.  "Are you still feeling all right?"  She smiled up at him and pointed at Del and Annie.  "Oh, now _that's blackmail.  I wish I had a camera..."_

                She swatted at him playfully, eyes sparkling over the wine glass.  "Richard, that's terrible.  But I'm sure someone here came prepared," she finished lightly.  The faint lines around his blue eyes crinkled appreciatively.  

                "Maybe the news camera over there?" he suggested slyly.

                "Ooo, let's go get him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                Ten minutes and two dances later, Annie strutted back to their table, Del staggering behind her.  She ran a slender hand through her straight, dark hair, stretching luxuriously. "Ahh, that was kind of fun.  Maybe I'll stop calling you Dull, Del.  For a while, anyway."  

                Del, ever the opportunist, had been more interested in watching her stretch.  "Uh, okay..." Annie looked at him and rolled her eyes.  "I'll go get drinks," he said quickly.

                Annie was going to sit down, but suddenly noticed Caroline's carefully schooled expression. "Hey, what's with the Cheshire Cat face?" she asked suspiciously, noticing a certain falseness to Richard's usual dour appearance as well.

                "Oh, nothing," Caroline blinked innocently.  "So you two enjoyed yourselves?"  

                "Ye-e-es," Annie said slowly, narrowing her eyes.  

                "That's nice," her friend chirped.  Her glance sneaked across to Richard, and a smirk threatened to break free.

                "All right, what did you two do?"  Annie crossed her arms in front of her chest, fixing them with a stern glare.

                "Nothing, nothing.  Really," Caroline lost the battle with the smirk.  Richard suddenly became extremely interested in the reflective properties of wine in stemware.

                Annie's eyebrows were still in her hairline, but she had more interesting agendas.  "Hmm.  So, Richie, did she talk you into a dance yet?"

                He spared her a glance.  "You couldn't just wait and find out?  Yes, she did."

                "Well, you just keep remembering what I said."

                _Give up now.  "I'm not likely to forget, am I?" he replied sardonically.  _

                Caroline looked from one to the other in complete incomprehension.  "What are you two talking about?"

                "Nothing, nothing," her assistant assured her hastily, glaring at Annie.

                An eddy in the current of revelers flowing around them caught their attention.  Looking up, they saw a striking woman in green smiling down at them, hanging on the arm of a man who might have stepped from the pages of G.Q.  Caroline's eyes widened slightly, and she suddenly looked trapped.  

                "Why, _hello, Caroline," the woman gushed in a velvety voice.  She touched her escort's arm.  "Paul, you remember my mentioning Caroline Duffy?"_

                "Nice to meet you," Paul said politely, extending a hand.

                "Nice to meet you too, " Caroline returned faintly. "Oh, Richard--" her gaze locked with his meaningfully-- "this is Erika Heilman, critic for the Weekly Review..."

                Erika interrupted with a shark's smile.  "Oh, Caroline, it's really been too long, hasn't it?  But isn't it nice to get together at these little events?  I know it's been a while since you've had reason to come, but you really should make the most of it while you're here... after all, who knows how long you'll be running in these circles?"

                Caroline stomped on Annie's foot as her friend's mouth began to open indignantly, and gritted her teeth.  "Well, who really has time to run in circles anyway," she shrugged, smiling brightly. Richard was suddenly overcome with a coughing fit, which conveniently covered a laugh.

                 The woman shot them an assessing glance.  "At least you will have a chance to do a little merrymaking tonight, dear.  We will be seeing you on the dance floor?"  The question must have been rhetorical because she swept away with her "Paul" before anyone could reply.

                Caroline dropped her head into her hands.  "Oh, why did _she of all people have to be here?"  Annie patted her hand comfortingly.  _

                "Nice comeback, though," Richard complimented.  "That's the one who lambasted you in the editorial column, right?"  

                "Yeah, the 'pathetic attempts at real-life humor' article," Caroline muttered.  "I don't know what I did to get on her bad side, but I'm there in a big way."

                "I think the color she's wearing says it all," Annie joked.  "Wish you hadn't stomped on my foot—I would have told her."

                "Hey, was that your nemesis bothering you just now?"  Del slipped into the chair next to Annie with their drinks.  "She walked away looking like a cat who ate the cream."

                "You would know, hiding over there behind the plant," Richard observed dryly.  Del winced and made a shushing motion with his hands.

                Caroline sighed.  "The reason she looks like that is because she knows I'm not up to scrutiny tonight, and she's going to make sure that everyone of importance here tonight sees me at my worst.  Look at them dancing," she indicated the dance floor, where the green- clad woman and her handsome escort were starting to monopolize the space.  "They're 'raising the bar', so to speak."

                Del snorted.  "Oh, come on Caroline, it's just dancing.  It's not a competition."

                Annie elbowed him.  "Del, are you nuts or just a little brain-dead?  Of _course it's a competition.  That witch is making it into one."  _

                Caroline was still watching.  Her head dropped into her hands again.  "I hate this.  I can't even _dream about dancing that well."_

                Richard closed his eyes for a moment against some internal struggle.  He finally stood up, slowly. "We really have to do this, don't we," he muttered.  Her head lifted and she stared at him, confused by his tone.  

                "What do you mean, Richard?"   

                "I hope you're wearing your good shoes," he replied morosely.  Annie and Del exchanged delighted looks as the artist pulled Caroline to her feet.  "Follow me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                The diminutive cartoonist followed Richard bemusedly through the crowd, still wondering what was going on.  They wove their way over to the band, where the piano player yelled excitedly upon seeing her blond assistant.  The two put their heads together for a moment, then Richard pulled Caroline off to the side to give her a pep talk.

                He looked seriously into her eyes.  "Now, Caroline, I don't really know what is going on here, nor do I really want to know.  I hate these silly political games.  But, sometimes they have to be played out, and I intend to play this one to your advantage."

                Caroline nodded, her face pale.  "Why are you talking to me like this, Richard?"

                "Because I hate making a spectacle of both of us and that's what we're going to be doing, so I'm trying to psych myself up," he said with a wry smile.  "The best thing to do is to forget that you're being impressive, though, and enjoy the music.  Will you trust me to lead?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

                "Of course I trust you, Richard," she whispered.  Suddenly, new music started-- a sweeping waltz version of "You and the Night and the Music".  She blinked.

                Richard offered her his arm, with a slight trace of the smile left on his face.  "Well, Ms. Duffy?"

                She felt as if she were making a grand entrance, although there were many other people dancing.  At first acutely conscious of being watched, she finally settled down into the rhythmic steps and grinned up at Richard.  "Hey, this isn't too bad.  What were you worried about?"

                He pulled her into a quick swing step and spun her out to arm's length as the music abruptly changed.  She followed through instinctively, stunned.  "This," came the response. "I hope you can tango?"

                She looked at him sharply.  "You're joking?  Right?" 

                "Trust me?"  His eyes had an unaccustomed sparkle that held her gaze.  She nodded slowly, a smile spreading across her face.  Richard knew how to tango?  

                The dance he led her through was something between a swing, a tango, and a foxtrot.  She tried to watch his feet for the first sixteen bars, but then it got too complicated to remember.  When she quit thinking about steps and just followed him, her feet fell into place naturally.  She laughed with delight as she twirled about the floor, her ballet training taking over and keeping her balanced.  But the most interesting part of the dancing was the softening of her partner's face as he guided her around the floor.

                Richard watched Caroline carefully as he led her through the constantly changing patterns.  The dance was the flashiest one he could remember from the period when his mother had tried to convince him that his father was Gene Kelly.  At the time, he had thought it fairly ridiculous, but he was glad for the experience now.  Caroline was an excellent dancer, too, adapting easily to the variations, her gown flaring as she spun gracefully and her face alight with excitement.  He found himself needing to look away from her to control the emotions that rushed through his heart, but unable to because of the dancing.  He fought instead to keep his expression still, and hoped desperately that he was succeeding.

                They stepped into a locked-arm pivot, which Caroline had decided was good for strutting.  As they looked directly into each other's eyes, he lifted one eyebrow at her.  

                "What?" she whispered, trying to blow a lock of hair up from her forehead. "I thought you said to show off?"

                "I did.  I just didn't realize how well you were going to do it," he muttered, before the music changed again and he disentangled them with a swing step.

                Caroline forgot to breathe when the tone of his comment finally sank in, and suddenly found herself gasping for air as the music thundered to a close.  "Are you going to dip me?" she panted as she whirled in towards his chest.  She came to a stop facing away from him, and his breath tickled her ear.

                "That depends... do you want to be dipped?"  The tone was strangely playful.  She grinned, deciding that she might as well make the most of the situation.  This would probably not happen again.  

                "Why not?"

                With the ending chords, Richard spun her out to the length of both of their arms, and pulled her back in to dip her almost to the floor.  She looked up at him with a glowing smile that was, amazingly, returned.  He set her carefully back on her feet and steadied her, waving to the piano player as they regally left the floor.

                Caroline was stunned.  She heard enthusiastic applause, and saw the crowd part for them, but not much else registered.  "Richard, that was _great," she whispered.  "How can you be able to dance like that and not like it?"_

                The artist's tousled blond hair was damp.  "I don't just 'not like it', Caroline," he replied, looking at her sidelong.  "I _hate it.  You know me..."_

                The corners of Caroline's mouth turned up sharply.  "Yes, I do know you."  

                "What does _that mean?" he asked quickly, a wary look on his face.  By that time, they had reached the table where Annie and Del were waiting, and Caroline didn't have to answer.  Richard had to settle for trying to interpret her enigmatic shrug._

                "You were terrific, Caroline," crowed Annie triumphantly, hugging the beaming cartoonist.  "And Richie!  I never knew you had it in you!"  Much to Richard's embarrassment, she hugged him too.  

                "You two just 'raised the bar' to an unattainable level," Del grinned.  "Erika's looking like she could chew tacks right now."

                "Well, maybe the rest of us can relax and enjoy the evening now," Richard snorted, downing the last of his wine.

                Annie looked at him pointedly.  "Before you relax too much, could you big strong men be troubled to get us another glass of wine?"

                "Uh-oh, girl talk," Del laughed, picking up Annie's glass.  "Come on, Richard." Richard stared at Annie for a moment, looking distinctly uneasy, but let Del drag him away.

                Caroline blinked in confusion.  "Okay, Annie, what's going on?"  Her friend was practically jittering in her chair.

                "Sit down, Caroline," she grinned.  "Hey, I really do mean it, you were terrific.  And Richard almost kissed you.  Did you see?"

                "What?"  Caroline laughed skeptically.  "No, I didn't see that -- what are you talking about?"

                "Oh, come on-- you know that funny look guys get when they're wondering if they can get away with it?"  Thoughtfully, Caroline nodded.  "He was really close at the end there. When he dipped you."

                "Oh," Caroline said faintly, blushing suddenly. "Oh, I did see that.  Annie, maybe this is going a little too far.  This flirting business is all well and good, but if I mess things up for he and Julia, I don't think I could forgive myself.  I'm just not cut out for that sort of thing!"

                "He and Julia?"  Annie looked at her, surprised. "Caroline, I don't think you have to be concerned about that now."

                "Annie, you're talking over my head.  What makes you think that?"

                "I found Julia's wedding ring in his desk drawer," Annie whispered.

                Caroline sat up in shock.  "You WHAT?  How do you know it's hers?"

                "Duh," Annie sniffed.  "Lady's wedding ring-- who else could it be?  And before you ask-- YES, I was snooping.  It's only a desk, if he wanted something to be a secret, he should take it home, right?"

                Caroline shook her head, thankful that the men were taking so long to get their drinks.  Her composure was completely shattered.  "Annie, are you _trying to make me crazy? This is a big thing you're suggesting, here. If it's true, how come he didn't tell me?"_

                "Caroline, think about it.  You've had a pretty rough week, maybe he didn't want to add to it."  She paused thoughtfully. "I'm giving Richie a lot of credit for sensitivity here, aren't I?  But I still think I'm right.  Now, breathe, and calm down.  Nothing has changed, right?  Except _now you have full license to flirt all you want... " Annie's wide smirk was guaranteed to provoke a smile from her friend. "Here they come," she whispered._

                Richard picked up staring nervously at Annie right where he'd left off.  Her unabashed smirk didn't help his state of mind any, and he nearly dropped Caroline's glass when the dark-haired dancer said, "Okay, Richie, it's my turn to show you a move or two."  

                He set the glass in Caroline's hand quickly, eyes darting to Annie's face.  "Wait.  No one said anything about dancing with you."  

                "Well, those rules were from before we knew you were good at it," giggled Caroline.  He shot her a pleading glance, but she spread her hands helplessly, a mischievous smile creeping back onto her features.  He sighed.

                "If you try to lead," he muttered balefully, walking beside Annie to the dance floor.

                She sniffed, tossing her dark head.  "You'll what?"

                "I'll trip you," he promised solemnly.  They stared at each other for a moment.  

                Annie grinned, challenged.  "This is going to be fun!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                Del draped a companionable arm across Caroline's shoulder as they watched their friends dance.  "It's a little different, watching those two," he observed critically.  

                "You mean besides the fact that they're both better dancers than we are?"  Caroline laughed, rubbing a cramp out of her leg ruefully.

                "Actually, Annie's right, you _were terrific," Del growled, gripping her shoulder.  "No, watch 'em for a second.  They're doing the same thing dancing as they do every day in your apartment-- one-upping each other.  It's hilarious."  _

                Mystified, Caroline watched.  "Oh, I _do see it,"  she giggled after a moment.  _

                "I saw something different when you were dancing, though," Del commented quietly.  "I wish you could have seen it."  Caroline twisted in her chair to look at her ex-boyfriend curiously.

                "Who are you and what did you do with Del?" she laughed.  He grinned back at her.  

                "I'm just tired of seeing you unhappy," he smiled.  "It was great to see you glow again." 

                Caroline turned back around, a wondering smile on her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                "All right, what did you tell her?"  Richard hissed.  They were face to face, doing an intricate two-step, and it was a perfect chance to get information.  Annie, however, was doing her best to make it difficult.

                "Nothing you shouldn't have told her already," the lithe dancer smirked.

                Richard rolled his eyes heavenward. "A little more specific?" he pleaded.  "'Things I should have told her already'-- that covers quite a lot."

                "I know," the reply came, with batted eyelashes.  "You should really try to do something about that."  

                "Annie," he said ominously.  

                "Oh, okay, okay.  I found the wedding ring," she said carelessly.

                Richard's eyes widened.  "You snooped _again," he accused, stopping cold in the middle of the floor.  Annie stomped on his foot._

                "Get moving," she growled.  Stunned, he picked up the step again. "I did snoop.  I'm sorry, okay?  You know that I do it, so if you don't want me to find something, why do you put it in there?"

                He sighed.  "Maybe I did want you to find it.  But I was hoping I could wait for a while to tell her... like a few weeks, or..."

                "Or never."  Annie glared at him.  "Don't you think that this nonsense has gone on long enough?"

                He gave her a hopeless look.  "Annie, you know I'm terrified of this.  I couldn't forgive myself if I hurt her, and it seems like I end up hurting anyone I get involved with."

                "Richard, you're already involved.  Don't you get it yet?"  Her frank expression caught him by surprise, and he stared at her wide-eyed for a moment.  A small smile crept onto his face. 

                "I am, aren't I," he said thoughtfully.

                "Two years worth," she grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:  The song referred to is an arrangement by Steve Barnett of "You and the Night and the Music" (Howard Dietz/Arthur Schwartz).  It's very "big band" in nature although the only recording of it I have is done by the vocal group Chanticleer.  Not sure if the original instrumental version had the twists and turns that this one takes… but it translates well.  ~~Arallion


	8. The Healing Power of Chocolate

Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance

Chapter Eight: The Healing Power of Chocolate

By  S. Arallion

**Disclaimer**:  All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders—namely, not myself.  Anything you don't recognize is my fault.  I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters.  ~~Arallion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****

                "Goodnight Annie, Del," Caroline called out the door as her two friends vanished down the hallway, Del ostensibly to 'walk Annie to her door'.  She shook her head as she shut the door behind her.  Some things in her life were so strange, she mused, walking to the kitchen.

                A soft knock on the door made her freeze in her tracks, and she turned around cautiously.  Tiptoeing across the room, she peered through the peephole.  A familiar tousled blond head came into view, and she relaxed with a sigh of relief.  "Richard..."

                "Richard, I thought you were going home.  Is something wrong?" she asked worriedly as she opened the door and let him inside.

                "I, ah... forgot that I had changed clothes here." He looked faintly embarrassed.  "I left them on my chair... along with my car keys."

                Caroline tried to stifle it, but the giggle sneaked out anyway.  "Oh.  Oops.  Well, since you're here, would you like a cup of coffee?"

                "If you're going to make some, sure," he replied distractedly, grabbing his street clothes off the chair.  He turned to her as she started the coffeemaker.  "Do you mind if I change out of this?  It's rented, of course," he said wryly.

                "No, of course not..." Caroline smiled.  "As a matter of fact, I think I'll get out of this thing, too."  

                She trudged upstairs after he disappeared into the bathroom, and struggled out of her dress with a sigh.  It was always a little depressing to change back into normal clothing after an evening like she'd just had.  A bit like Cinderella turning into the pumpkin, she grumbled, looking at her bruised arms.  At least she was still purple and blue... she raised her eyebrows and chuckled at herself.  Being sarcastic was Richard's job.  She turned resolutely away from the mirror and slouched back downstairs in her sweats.

                Richard was seated in his chair with his mug cradled in his hands, staring out the window into the darkness.  The lights she'd strung up for Christmas were the only ones on in the room, but they gave off a warm, cheerful glow.  Caroline hesitated on the stairs, gazing at her assistant curiously.  His face was drawn into its habitual serious expression, but it was sadder than usual, pensive.  He didn't seem to have noticed her movement at all.

                She continued down the stairs and helped herself to a cup of coffee.  Richard jumped and darted a quick look at her, which she pretended not to notice. "So, it was awfully nice of you to do all of this for me, Richard," she said earnestly.  "I think that's the best time I've ever had at an awards ceremony."

                Regaining his composure, Richard snorted quietly.  "Ah, but the fun's not over yet.  Just wait until Del and Annie see their picture in the news tomorrow."  Caroline choked on her coffee in laughter.

                "So, will you be in tomorrow?"

                "Do I have a choice?"  Richard asked out of habit.

                "Well..." Caroline shrugged.  "I thought you might like a day off."

                The artist avoided her eyes, backtracking.  "It's not a problem.  Unless _you wanted to have time off?"_

                Caroline laughed.  "Me, time off?  According to Del, I have all the time off I need anyway.  I'm just getting ahead of myself this week, you know that."

                "How about I come in around eleven tomorrow, then?  That'd be a nice break."

                "Richard, you come in at eleven all the time," Caroline said in a stern tone.

                "Yes, but this time I wouldn't have to come up with an excuse for being late," he replied flippantly.  She laughed helplessly and walked back into the kitchen for another cup of coffee.

                Richard pulled on his coat and picked up his suit carrier and keys.  "I should probably be going," he muttered uncomfortably.  

                She turned back to him rapidly.  "Oh, really?  Are you sure you wouldn't like another cup..." Her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat, looking down.  "Um, probably not.  It is late, isn't it.  Well, goodnight, then."

                She waited for him to leave, but he wasn't moving. He just stood there in his coat, looking at her.  

                "Caroline, you're not sleeping well, are you."  The comment wasn't questioning.

                She glanced up, trying to look cheerful.  "What do you mean?"

                "I mean," he stated, "that you look exhausted, and not just this evening.  Your eyes are burned holes in your head.  Not to mention that this is the best coffee you've ever been able to make, and you must have been practicing sometime."

                She smiled halfheartedly at the last comment, but sighed in resignation.  "All right, you caught me.  No, I haven't been sleeping well.  Actually, I've sort of given up on it-- that's why the coffee. Annie gave me some sleeping pills, but I can't bring myself to take them.  What if there's a fire, or someone... well, you know what I mean."

                Richard winced.  Unfortunately, he thought he did know what she meant.  "Look, Caroline..."

                "Richard, you've done so much for me already," Caroline sighed.  "I can deal with this.  Just go home, have a good night's sleep.  You deserve it."

                He looked at her with a faint hint of irritation on his face.  "You didn't let me finish.  I was going to say, it's one in the morning anyway.  If you have some extra blankets, and you think it might help you sleep easier, I'll just stay down here on your couch."

                "Oh, Richard, I--"

                "Or, I could sleep outside the door, and bark loudly if someone tries to come in," he interrupted dryly.  She chuckled despite herself.

                "Would it help?" he repeated seriously.

                "You wouldn't mind?"

                He exhaled a long-suffering sigh.  "Caroline, I _offered, remember?"_

                She held his eyes for a moment.  "All right, I'll get you some covers and a pillow."

                Richard watched her scamper up the stairs, then closed his eyes and hit himself in the face with a pillow from the couch.  "What am I _doing," he moaned to himself and Salty, who watched him from her place on a plush chair.  He made a face at the cat.  "Easy enough for you to judge.  You're spayed."_

                Caroline's footsteps pattered down the stairs again.  "What was that, Richard?"  She could hardly see over the mound of bedding she was holding, and the artist rushed to grab it from her before she tripped over anything.

                "Oh, nothing.  Hey, it's not _this cold in here," Richard protested, counting four blankets as he set them on the couch.  _

                "You'd be surprised. I turn the heat down at night.  It usually lets me sleep better," the red-haired cartoonist assured him, fluffing the pillow she'd brought.  "Are you sure about this?"

                _No, he told her silently.  __But that's because I'm a fool.  "Yes, Caroline.  Stop worrying about me.  Unless you want to pay me for this...?"  She grinned at him.  "Didn't think so.  Go upstairs, sleep well.  I'll be down here if you need anything."_

                "Thank you Richard," she whispered.

                He looked around as she moved to the stairs.  "You won't mind if I turn on the television, will you?  I'm a night owl, and I think I might sit up and work on some sketches for a little bit."

                "No, I don't think it'll bother me.  If it does, I'll tell you," Caroline promised, her voice light.  She vanished up the stairs.

                "Oh, and Caroline?"

                "What, Richard?"  Her head popped back into view.

                He glanced up at her, settling in on the couch with a sketchpad and pencils.  "I don't know if anyone told you...you looked stunning tonight.  I thought you should know."  His face was unnaturally still, shuttered.

                Caroline stared at him for a long moment, a warm feeling creeping into her chest.  A little smile grew on her face.  "Goodnight, Richard," she whispered, and tucked herself into bed with the smile still on her lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                A strangled cry woke Richard out of a sound sleep.  He sat up and scrabbled around for his glasses in a panic.  Finally discovering them under the sketchpad, he vaulted over the end of the couch and up the stairs to Caroline's bedroom, looking around wildly.

                The blinds let only a small amount of watery moonlight in, slashing across the rumpled-- and empty-- sheets of Caroline's bed.  He squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to the darker areas of the room, and cautiously walked further in.  Another gasping cry led him to the foot of the bed, and he slid to his knees, peering into the shadow. A huddled form lay there, breathing in terrified gasps.  "Caroline?" he called with a sinking heart, afraid to touch her and frighten her more.  

                The figure froze, then drew in a shuddering breath.  "Richard?  I'm so sorry; I woke you up again... I just don't know what's happening to me," she finished with a wrenching sob.  He reached unthinkingly out to her and pulled her to his chest as she dissolved into tears again.

                To his dismay, she was not wearing very much.  He couldn't very well pull away, however, so he rocked her shaking body gently and tried not to think about it.  Instead, he worried about the fact that she had been sleepwalking and ended up on the floor very near the area where she had presumably been hurt before.  He suddenly felt very paternal and quite angry.

                Caroline's crying eased finally, and she pushed herself away, eyes downcast.  "I'm really sorry.  I don't know what happened," she muttered, sniffling slightly.

                Richard was suddenly reminded of what he was trying not to be reminded of.   "Ah-- Caroline... could you put on a bathrobe, or climb back under the covers, or something..." Even the moonlight did little to wash out his blush, as he intently studied the ceiling.

                She looked down at herself in embarrassed realization.  "Oh, my gosh.  I'm sorry, Richard--"

                He kept his eyes averted, but she could see the exasperated expression.  "Stop with the apologizing, already.  It's not your fault you were sleepwalking."

                She scrambled to her feet and pulled on a robe. "Okay, I'm dressed.  You can stop looking at the ceiling now."  Sitting tiredly on the end of the bed, she wiped at her eyes.  

                Richard sat beside her. "So, how long has this sort of thing been happening?"

                "Ever since I got back," she said faintly.  "At first I tried to get myself so tired that I _had to fall asleep, but then the dreams were worse, because I was so afraid that I wouldn't wake up if something happened.  And I've tried lots of things to keep myself from being afraid, but they just don't seem to work."  She trailed off, suddenly choking back tears again. "I can't believe this happened to me."_

                "I can't either," the artist muttered softly. She leaned up against his chest, shaking again.  Unhappily, he stroked her hair and rubbed her back soothingly until she calmed again.  "Well, I was hoping that having a guard in the front room would help you, but I can see this calls for more drastic measures."  His tone became deceptively light, and she curiously turned to look into his face.  "Get yourself a blanket and pillow, and come on downstairs in a minute," he told her briskly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                When she finally straggled down the stairs, a wonderful smell made her eyes widen. "Richard, what did you do?"  

                He was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pan.  "Put your stuff on the couch, Caroline," he ordered.  "And find something silly to watch on T.V.... it shouldn't be too hard, at this time of night."

                She followed her assistant's directions, bemused.  "But, Richard, what are you doing?"  

                He turned and carefully walked to her side, holding a mug and the sugar bowl.  "Here.  It's real cocoa.  You know, the hard way?  With milk, and sugar 'to taste'." A slight smile was on his face.

                "Wow, you didn't even scald it," Caroline chuckled, amazed.  She took several spoonfuls of sugar.

                The smile widened.  "You want me to leave the bowl?"

                Caroline's mouth dropped open, and her lips quirked.  "Well, it _is my bowl..."_

                Richard snorted in amusement.  "True.  Can I have some too, though?"  He rose to get his mug.

                "Oh, I suppose so," she replied casually.  "But only because you've been so nice lately."  He shook his head wryly at her as he returned to her side and sat cross-legged on his blankets, which were on the floor.

                "Now.  This is what I propose we do," he stated matter-of-factly, spooning sugar into his cup.  "We curl up in our blankets, drink our cocoa, watch insanely stupid early morning television shows, and make fun of them until we both fall asleep.  Sound good?"  

                Caroline laughed.  "Why are you doing this, Richard?  It sounds fine to me, but it doesn't sound like something _you would do."_

                "_Hey."  He looked up at her from his place on the floor with an offended air that was completely spurious.  "Let that be a lesson to you... never assume you know what someone will do."  When her look of disbelief intensified, he relented. "All right, I learned it from some friends in college.  Satisfied?"  She raised her cup and an eyebrow to him, a gesture that he returned before turning and making an impossibly sarcastic comment about her program choice._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                Her head rested lightly on his shoulder, her arm curved over his chest as she snuggled closer against the chill in the air.  Sleepily, Richard gathered the warmth to him, in his dream caressing her smooth shoulder, inhaling the citrus fragrance of her soft hair against his cheek.  He felt a breath against his neck as she turned slightly in response.  A familiar purr resounded in his ear.

                His eyes flew open as he was startled into wakefulness.  Salty gazed enigmatically down at him from her perch on the couch, purring loudly.  Richard blinked at her fuzzily, with a nervous flutter beginning in his stomach.  Something was definitely resting in the crook of his shoulder, and pressing closely to his right side.  He turned his head slowly to see what he held in his arms if not the cat.  

                Looking down he saw an image from his dream.  Caroline's short, red gold hair tickled his cheek.  Her face was still and peaceful, as she slept without fear for the first time in a week. Richard watched her for a moment, then closed his eyes, hoping that the moment might last.

                The arm tightened across his chest as she burrowed under the covers with a small sigh.  Her hand stroked his arm gently, but the motion stopped abruptly. Richard lay quietly, trying to appear asleep as he felt her weight shift.  

                Caroline awoke from her comfortable sleep a little surprised to find herself cradled in her assistant's arms.  For that matter, she couldn't remember exactly how she'd gotten from the couch to the floor in the first place.  After a brief moment of worrying about whether or not she might have rolled off of the couch and fallen on top of Richard, she dismissed the thought—even he, in his current "thoughtful" state, wouldn't have been able to avoid yelping if he'd been jabbed with her sharp elbows.

                She turned, as carefully as possible, to look at Richard.  He looked like he was sleeping, but even in sleep his expression was faintly worried.  She wondered what he might dream about that would make him uptight even in his sleep.  Paintings chasing him around the city?  Charlie on his rollerskates, loose in a room full of masterpieces?  Maybe even—having to act as Salty's personal assistant?  She couldn't help but giggle at that thought.

                Richard's eyes flew open.  Several emotions swept across his features, among them embarrassment and guilt.  "Ah--"

                Surprise, Caroline noted, was definitely NOT among the expressions he displayed.  "You were awake," she accused mildly, smiling.

                "Ah…" the artist mumbled again, avoiding her eyes.  Or, rather, he attempted to avoid her eyes.  It was somewhat difficult when he was partially pinned under Caroline's arm and chest.  He made a valiant effort to pull his thoughts together for an explanation of some sort.  "Caroline, I—um—I'm sorry.  I don't know how this happened--"

                She interrupted him with a sigh of relief.  "Oh, good!"

                "What?" Richard blinked.

                "Good, because I thought that I might have rolled off the couch on top of you, and I was worried that it might have hurt," she explained innocently.

                Richard felt a little flutter in his stomach at the idea of her having fallen on top of him in any way, and quickly visualized a net, with which he proceeded to beat the butterflies mercilessly down.  "I think I probably would have remembered that," he muttered in a fair imitation of his normal pained tone.

                Caroline giggled again, her grey eyes sparkling, and rolled away from him so that he could get up if he so desired.  He remembered that he hadn't heard such a lighthearted laugh from his cherished friend for quite some time now.  It was good to hear again.

                Scrubbing at his face to jolt himself back into reality, he rolled to his side and groped blindly for his glasses.  They'd disappeared somewhere under the coffee table, if he recalled correctly.

                "They're on the table, Richard," Caroline interrupted his search with a matter-of-fact tone.  

                Sheepishly, he reached up and found the wire frames.  The familiar pinch as they settled into place on the bridge of his nose made him feel slightly more comfortable.  Plus, now he could see.  He glanced over at Caroline with a raised eyebrow.  "Thanks."

                "No problem," she replied, smiling slightly.

                He cleared his throat.  "Well, you're feeling better then, I presume?"

                Caroline gazed at him with a serious sort of look that made his heart beat faster.  "I really need to thank you, Richard," she responded quietly.  "I mean, everything you've done for me so far, since—well, you know," she faltered.  "It's not something I really expected."

                Richard's face went bleak when she skirted around her experience. "None of this was expected," he said darkly.  

Naturally, Caroline was having none of his dour moods, though.   She swatted his chest lightly and glared at him.  "Obviously, but that's not my point.  I know you hate it when I make a fuss over you, but bear with me for a second."

                "I don't hate it when you make a fuss over me." The comment slipped out before he could stop it.  

                She appeared not to notice his little slip.  "Anyway, I want you to know that I appreciate all you've done.  If I can ever do anything for you…"

                _This was really too much_, Richard thought, feeling his cheeks beginning to flush.  "You're welcome," he said gruffly.

                "Is this making you uncomfortable?" Caroline was still watching him intently.

                "What—this conversation or the position we're in while having this conversation?"

                She shrugged.  "Either.  Both.  Are you?"

                "Am I what?"

                "Uncomfortable."

                "Oh."

                Silence fell for a long moment while Richard seemed to be considering his answer.  In reality, he was berating himself soundly for not getting up earlier, reminding himself that it was his moment of weakness that had gotten him into this conversation in the first place.  He was so intent upon the idea that he didn't even notice the impish look that crept onto Caroline's face until it was too late.

                "Hey!"  Richard jerked backward and hit his head on the edge of the coffee table.

                "What?"

                "You _tickled_ me!"

                "So?"  

                Such a grin, he thought bitterly, _had_ to be illegal in some states. "Well, if I wasn't uncomfortable before, I certainly am now," he grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

                "Awww…." Caroline's repentant expression was marred by the smirk that kept creeping onto her lips.  "Why?"

                "My head hurts, for one," the artist complained, with a suspicion that she wasn't asking about the lump on his head but rather something else that he wasn't quite prepared to talk about yet.  He glanced at her, with her coppery, tousled hair glowing in the morning sunlight, and swallowed hard.  She was so perfect, her joy and contentment in life the ultimate antidote for his habits of gloom and cynicism…  If he had experienced a trauma as deep as what she had suffered so recently, he wasn't at all sure he would have survived it.  And she was thanking _him_ for his _help?_  

                "What are you staring at, Richard?  Don't tell me you hit your head so hard it's caused permanent damage."  Her expression was a combination of mirth and concern.

                It suddenly struck him, less painfully than the coffee table had, but just as startling.  Was she actually _encouraging_ him to say something more?  Were the things that Annie had mentioned to him the previous evening true?

                Caroline's grey eyes followed his expressions closely, a faint worried line appearing between her eyebrows.  "Richard?  Are you okay?  I mean…  you didn't really hurt yourself, did you?"  She reached out to touch his hair tentatively.

                The rattle at the door caused them both to freeze.

"Caroline!  You awake yet?"  Annie burst through the front door in her morning coffee-hunting state, groggy and half-dressed.  She stopped abruptly to stare at the astonishing sight of her best friend camped out on the floor in front of the television in an incriminating position with the man she considered her favorite scratching-post...  The blank look on the dancer's face turned slowly to sadistic glee.  "Geez, Caroline, did the bed get boring already?"

Caroline turned bright pink.  "Annie!" she yelped.  "Don't you ever knock?"

"Not that I remember," Annie grinned widely.  "Sorry."  She looked down at Richard, who was almost as pink as Caroline, but appeared to be trying to smother himself with a pillow.  "But I've got to say—it's about damn time.  I'll just.. let myself out, shall I?"  She smirked at them both and sauntered back out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued…

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Author's Note:  My deepest apologies for the long delay in posting more to this fic... life does intrude at the most awkward times (darn that Murphy, anyway).  I hope this whets your appetite, and please forgive me for not being able to complete the story in this chapter!  Nine is a good number for me, though… ;)  ~~Arallion  


	9. Without A Net

Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance

Chapter Nine: Without a Net

By  S. Arallion

**Disclaimer**:  All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders—namely, not myself.  Anything you don't recognize is my fault.  I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters.  ~~Arallion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                Caroline bolted up from the nest of blankets and stomped to the door, hanging halfway out into the hallway.  Richard sat up nervously as well.  He couldn't see what Caroline was doing, but from the way her stocking-clad toes twitched, he guessed that she and Annie were engaging in some form of soundless communication.  This usually involved horrendous facial contortions and exaggerated attempts at lip-readable speech, and he could normally figure out what they were trying to do quite easily.  Unfortunately, when all one had to go by was a twitching leg, it was beyond him.

                Finally, she pulled back into the room.  She closed the door with a deliberate motion, turning to put her back against it and rub her forehead with one hand, eyes downcast.  When she finally looked up at him, she looked instantly concerned.  

                "Richard, I am so sorry.  Here you were being so nice to me, and then Annie had to come in and make a big scene…"

                "No, no, that's all right, Caroline," he sighed.  "I'll just have to move to a new neighborhood, change my name, get a new job—hey, you wouldn't happen to have a paper bag I could put over my head on the way out, would you?"

                Caroline's grey eyes looked stricken as she stared at him.

                Perhaps that hadn't been the best humor, under the circumstances.  "Caroline.  That was a joke."

                She continued to stare at him, as if she hadn't heard.  "You—you don't really mean that, do you?  You wouldn't really want to get a new job, Richard—not over this?"

                Richard groaned internally, picked up his pillow, and very deliberately whacked himself in the face with it.  Caroline's expression, which had been slowly crumbling into sadness, quirked into confusion.

                "What did you do that for?"

                "Because," the artist winced, readjusting the wire frames on his nose, "I deserved it."

                She blinked, and pushed herself away from the door, stepping closer to the couch.  "Please don't joke about something like that, Richard.  I couldn't stand it if you felt you had to leave because of this."

                He regarded her owlishly over the rims of his glasses as she sat down on the couch, near him.  "Is it really _that_ difficult to find someone to color in your pictures?"

                Scowling, she poked him in the shoulder.  "You _know_ what I mean."

                They stared at each other for a moment in breathless silence.

                "_Do_ I know what you mean?" Richard wondered aloud, in a soft tone.  He flushed and looked down suddenly, taking off his glasses and wiping them attentively.  

                 Caroline's voice was equally soft.  "It's really _that_ difficult to find someone who is as good of a friend as you've been to me."

                "I'm not a good friend," the artist scoffed automatically.  _But it was so nice to have someone think of you that way…_

                "You _are_ a good friend," she said forcefully, and he looked up into her grey gaze, her lovely brow slightly furrowed with the effort she was putting forth to break through his self-pity.  

                Years of conditioning made him choke on the words, but he had to respond.  "Thank you for—believing that about me."  The next part was easier.  "But you're the one who's been the true friend.  You put up with me."  His smile was only partially forced.

                She raised an eyebrow at him.  "Put up with you?  Oh, yes, I guess there was that time with the—"  The mischievous smirk crept onto her face for a moment as he began to look crestfallen.  "But it looks like Salty's forgiven you for that," she grinned as the cat stretched out a paw from her lazy position on the couch, to attempt to play with Richard's glasses.  "And that's what I mean… like what we were talking about, before we were so rudely interrupted.  I never expected you to go so far out of your way to help me feel better, but you did.  Without even thinking about it.  You've been a wonderful friend to me..."

                Richard fended off Salty's paws, trying not to become flustered by the compliments, but there was something missing at the end of Caroline's statement.  Something… implied.  He looked up at her despite himself.    

                Her eyes were very wide, as if she were struggling to say—or not say—something.  

Richard swallowed hard.  This felt a little like how it felt to put the first daubs of paint on a canvas, a dizzying, yet somehow freeing sensation which he'd always imagined to be similar to that of a tightrope walker working without a net.  If you didn't say, _"oh well, what the hell"_ you never got anywhere.   Clearing his throat, he managed to say, "And?"

She closed her eyes briefly.  "And I was wondering if there might be…"

                It was far too good to be true, after all that had happened.  No safety net.  _Once the paint is placed, there's no turning back, _a little, cynical part of his mind shrieked at him.  Placing his hand gently on Caroline's flannel-covered knee, he told that part of his mind very firmly to shut up.

                Caroline opened her eyes, startled at the contact.  Richard's eyes were fixed on her face, little defensive lines crinkling at the corners.  She slowly finished her sentence, and watched the lines smooth away with each syllable as he voiced them with her, in unison.  "….something more?"

                Richard felt suddenly disembodied.  He watched disbelievingly as Caroline reached out with her hand—her perfect, fine-boned, delicate hand—to touch his cheek.  He leaned into the soft warmth of her palm, closing his eyes.  The irreverent and bitterly cynical part of his mind ranted away in the background.  _This can't be real.  I'm still sleeping on the floor.  Worse, I'm in my own apartment, and I'm cuddling up to a rat._

                "Richard?"

                His eyes flew open, and he made a questioning noise, unable to speak.  It wasn't his apartment, it was hers.  Caroline was still there, looking nervous and fragile.  Salty was chewing on his glasses.

                "Do you feel that way too?" she asked softly.  Richard raised an exasperated eyebrow, causing her to chuckle at herself.  "Okay, okay, I get the impression that you think that's a silly question.  But you haven't _said_ anything— "

                "I don't want to ruin it," he interrupted with an urgent tone.  "Really, Caroline, I've been trying to figure out if this is real or if I'm still asleep…. I really hope that I'm not still asleep."

                "You're not asleep," she whispered, leaning forward and pushing her hand back through his rumpled blond hair, ending with her lips so close to his that if he moved ever so slightly, he would kiss her.

                Which he did.

                It wasn't a long kiss, or a deep kiss.  Just a soft brushing of the skin of their lips.  Despite that, the kiss was more electrifying than any of the "passionate Italian kisses" Richard had experienced, and he was instantly tingling with excitement.  Caroline's eyes slowly opened again, glimmering with emotion, and her lips curved in the tiny smile he adored so much.

                "That was nice," she whispered.

                "That was more than nice," he replied breathlessly.

                "I like how you look without your glasses," she murmured, her eyes seeming to try to memorize every detail of his face.  He noticed, because he was trying to do the same thing.

                The compliment made him blush and stammer, though.  "I—ah—thank you."

                Caroline smiled at him and kissed his nose lightly.  "You're welcome.  You'd better get used to that, I'm afraid.  If I'm allowed to give you compliments all the time, you can bet you'll be receiving them."

                "I'll try," he responded with a wry look.  "It's not like I could get my glasses back right now anyway."  He shot a glance at the very awake and alert cat, who was encircling his glasses with her paws, purring in a self-satisfied manner.

                Caroline sighed suddenly, and dropped her face into the hollow of his neck.  "I hope this doesn't complicate things too much," she mumbled from the area of his collarbone.

                "Caroline, what could possibly be complicated about this situation?" 

                She poked him in the ribs for the sarcastic tone.  "I don't know, Richard, I've never wanted to date—no, I take that back.  I've never _actually dated_ my assistant before.  I've wanted to, for a long time."

                The soft confession provoked a comforting squeeze, as Richard sat with his arms loosely encircling her shoulders.  "I guess there could be all sorts of things wrong with it," he admitted.  "But I'm willing to sign just about anything to give it a try, now that I know you're willing."

                She turned in his arms to smile up at him.  "No matter what happens, Richard, I'll always do my best to be your friend and look out for you."

                "You sound as cautious as I do," Richard muttered, giving her a thoughtful glance.

                "Well, a lot has happened," she said, pulling back from him to look him in the face.  "I guess I don't have as much faith in _sincere amore_ as I used to.  But I do believe in you," she finished with another tiny smile.

                "I'm glad one of us does," the artist sighed.  "And I believe in you—more than you could ever imagine."

                Caroline made a small noise of surprise, and grinned.  "Awww, Richard—now you're making _me_ blush."   She snuggled close to him again.

                "Fair's fair," he quipped.  Her hair tickled his cheek, much the way it had earlier in the morning, but this time it was different.  Everything was so different.  He caught his breath with a sudden thought.

                "What's wrong?"  Caroline looked at him worriedly.

                "Do you think you might be able to spring for some more Cadmium Red Light pigment?"

                She blinked in confusion.  "Why, and why are you asking me now?"

                "Because it's your fault that everything I paint from now on is going to be seen through rose-colored glasses."  He gave her a bland look, that soon dissolved into a smirk as she started giggling uncontrollably.

                "Well, fair _is_ fair," he continued, and then yelped as she started to tickle him.

                "I'll give you fair," Caroline gasped, skittering after him as he tried to make a getaway.  She was quite a bit more athletic than he was, so he ended up tangled in the blankets while she managed to find all the worst spots imaginable to tickle.  Finally he lay there on the floor, as helpless and pathetic-looking as he could be, hoping that she'd take pity on him.   

                She made a funny noise and looked startled.  "Oh n-hic!-no!"

                "Hiccups?" he surmised with relief.

                "Yes—hic! But I'll be back," she warned, pointing a menacing finger at him as she dashed for the refrigerator, hiccupping the whole way.

                Richard took the opportunity to put his shirt back on.

                "What is that?"  Caroline pointed at the shirt, as she came back carrying a glass of water.  She handed the water to him and he sipped gratefully.

                "It's a shirt," he replied, after swallowing. 

                "What's it doing on you?"  She gave him an impish look.

                "Um…"

                "Does it need to be there?"

                "Well, no…" Richard was having trouble thinking of anything to say.  After all, it seemed like she was asking him to take his clothes off.

                "So when I get back, maybe it won't be there?"  The look was no longer impish, as she returned to the kitchen to get her own glass of water.  It didn't appear to have been a question.   

                Richard took his shirt off again—after all, it _was_ dirty.  He sorted out the blankets a little, and curled back up against the couch.  His gaze fell on Salty, who was happily rubbing her cheek against his glasses frames.  "Is she like this with other guys?"  he muttered to the cat.

                Salty purred and blinked innocently at him.

                "No, just with you, now," the liquid silver voice of his beloved Caroline whispered in his ear, as she poured over the back of the couch and curled her arms around him, resting her hands on his chest and her head on his shoulder.  He reached back despite himself and ran his hand through her light copper hair, turning to kiss her lightly again.

                "You know, I'm glad we had this little talk," he said, with a glint of humor in his eyes at the massive understatement.  

                Caroline dimpled at him and shifted position to slide down onto the floor next to him.  "Me too.  And I expect we'll have lots more to talk about—later."  She cuddled up to him, a warm, lithe bundle of energy.

                Richard took a deep breath of wonderful, Caroline-scented air.  "Later?"  She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he had to take another breath to steady himself.  "We're not going to get walked in on again, are we?"  He had to say it—not very romantic, but he didn't think he could handle being interrupted by Annie again this day.

                Caroline winked at him and pointed to the table, where she'd set a familiar-looking door key.  Richard's eyes widened, and a pleasant flutter began in the pit of his stomach.

"In that case, could we make that… _much_ later?"

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Finis

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Author's Note:  Thank you to all who read and reviewed… I'm very glad my first posting wasn't a crashing bore.  J  Take care, and happy writing!   ~~Arallion  


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